


Corvus Fallere, book 3

by Mousewrites



Series: Corvus Fallere [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 80s, BDSM, Caning, Cock Rings, Consensual Sex, Drug Use, F/M, Feral Behavior, Foursome - F/M/M/M, Large Cock, Leather Kink, M/M, Masochism, Multi, Panic Attacks, Potions, Punk, Rape/Non-con Elements, Recovery, Rimming, Sadism, Sex Magic, Slavery, Sounding, Sub Harry Potter, Sub Remus Lupin, Sub Ron Weasley, Switch Remus Lupin, Switch Sirius Black, Tattoos, Top Hermione Granger, Top Severus Snape, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:54:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 25
Words: 108,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22874320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mousewrites/pseuds/Mousewrites
Summary: What exactly does being free mean? And how can it possibly be harder than what has come before?
Relationships: Harry Potter/Other(s), Harry Potter/Severus Snape, Hermione Granger/Harry Potter/Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Harry Potter/Severus Snape/Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Remus Lupin, Hermione Granger/Remus Lupin/Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Remus Lupin/Harry Potter, Remus Lupin/Harry Potter/Severus Snape, Remus Lupin/Severus Snape, Sirius Black/Harry Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Series: Corvus Fallere [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/311412
Comments: 599
Kudos: 255
Collections: Emergency Thirst Aid Station





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello ducklings!
> 
> I said I'd never write a book 3, but apparently I was incorrect. 
> 
> Almost 20 years since I started this story, just after goblet of fire, and before Order of the Phoenix. Clearly, my story has deviated from cannon, but at the time, it wasn't an AU.
> 
> I'm reformatting the first two books (I can't stand the missing italics anymore!) so they will be getting an update, as well. 
> 
> Plus, I'm 20 years older than I was when I wrote book 1. I'm sure my writing has changed. Let me know if you think my old 'voice' was better. 
> 
> If you've ever want to ask me a question, but not comment, my email is mousewrites @ Gmail. Com.

Around us, the camp slept. Fires were out, except for the ring of small fire pits that marked the boundary of the concealment spell. Their flickering light danced on the wall of our tent, giving me just enough light to make out the sleeping forms of Hermione and Ron in their beds across the way. This wasn't a grand tent like we had at the World Cup, this was more like what I imagined camping was like when he was a child... Except for the running water, and indoor torches, and the bathroom... OK, maybe not. But for wizards, this was apparently living rough.

I turned over, pulling my fur blanket up over my ears. It wasn't really cold in the tent, not like it was outside, but I still shivered. I aways shivered, somewhere in my belly, like my insides were cold even when my skin was pleasantly warm.

Ron had given me his extra blanket.

I could hear them breathing, almost in sync, his rasp just falling after her faint whistle. She always slept with her mouth firmly closed.

Sleep dragged at me, too, and I fought to keep my eyes open. I didn't want to sleep. It had been a week since the last time I had the dream, and 3 days since I had slept, and I couldn't give in to it, I couldn't just let it _happen_ and not fight. I was supposed to fight, we all were fighting...

But my eyes were so heavy, and the light flickering on the wall faded as sleep pulled me under.

Rough fingers against my face. The smell of ink and potions and that scented oil. I turned my head, captured those fingers in my mouth, sucked at the dirt and sweat on them. I couldn't tell if my eyes were shut or if it was just dark. His fingers stroked over my tongue.

"You fight sleep, and yet you're so eager once you get here. What, exactly, are you fighting, Modha? Certainly not _this_." His hand slid around the back of my neck, and he pushed his fingers deep, stretching my mouth wide around the knobs of his knuckles. I gagged, briefly, before managing to get my throat to relax. He hummed a pleased noise, and the shivering in my belly stilled.

"Still such a slut, even after all these weeks. Do they know, I wonder, that you come here, begging to be used? That you kneel and offer your body as if you never left? Do you tell them that you wake with the taste of me in your mouth, boy?" His fingers pulled back and slid in again. Tears pricked my eyes.

"Of course they don't. They'd look at you in horror if they knew. Their savior, begging for it, _gagging_ for it, like some trash in a penny dreadful." His breath ghosted wet over my cheek. He smelled of smoke. I tried to take more of his fingers down my throat.

"Such a good little whore, Modha. My good, good little whore. It's OK, I'll give you what you want. You don't have to beg for it. I know what you want. I _know."_ His fingers hooked briefly, making me gag, then dragged themselves out of my mouth, slick from my throat. He wiped them on my cheek, and then stepped backward, away from me. I whimpered, hot and hard and my face wet from tears.

"Maybe next time I'll give you what you need. Sleep well, Modha."

I thrashed out of the blankets, a sob in my throat, my hands clenched into knots. Their eyes across the tent were large and wet.

"Everything alright?" Hermione said, her voice quiet.

"Fine," I mumbled around the scar tissue in my mouth, and wrapped myself in my blanket, trying to keep the shivering out of my voice. "I'm fine."

Outside, the camp slept on.


	2. Chapter 2

When I got up in the morning, early enough that the grey light of dawn was just bright enough to see, I scuffed my feet through the black marks scorched around my bed. Brae looked up at me from his little nest of blankets and grass, and I put my finger to my lips, and he ducked his head back under his wing.

Ron and Hermione were still sleeping when I slipped outside, the frozen ground hard against my bare feet. The camp was deserted this time of the day. The air hurt, cold and sharp. I walked down to where the icy stream crossed the camp boundary, the water rippling around the faint glimmer of the barrier. 

There was a large flat-topped rock, sticking out over the water. The stone was smooth and frigid, and I from here could see across the entire valley below, all the way to where the forest washed up against the rolling plain, and in the distance, the faint purple bruise of Hogwarts against the brightening sky.

A few birds called to each other across the thick stands of rowan and holly in the forest, their voices thin and far apart. 

I watched my breath curl out long fingers of mist that reached out and scratched at the first flush of sunlight. The persistent tightness in my chest eased as the frigid air made my lungs ache. My toes had long since gone numb, the cold now bone deep in my feet. My eyes stung, and I blinked them clean, frost building up on my eyelashes. The cold seeped into my heart, my brain, slowing the swirl of emotions into a sluggish pulse.

The crunch of boots in the frozen dead grass told me I had a visitor long before they managed to make it out to my vantage point.

He paused for a moment at the bottom of my rock, probably waiting for me to say something. When I didn't respond, he clambered up the stone, only slipping a few times. I could feel his warmth against the skin of my arm as he came to stand next to me, joining me in my sunrise vigil. I could smell coffee.

The light got brighter, picking gold highlights out of the flat winter landscape.

When the sunlight finally broke the horizon, flooding my rock with blinding brightness, I shut my eyes against the pain for a long moment. I eventually turned to him, my shoulders dropping out of the waiting pose I didn't remember taking, opening my wet eyes.

Remus stood disheveled as ever, holding two mugs of coffee. He offered me the full one and frowned as my cold fingers brushed his as I took it. He looked down at my bare feet, and clucked at me, faintly disapproving.

"Forgot, again, Harry?"

I shrugged one shoulder, not meeting his eyes, and he slipped his wand out, conjuring a pair of warm slippers onto the stone next to my bloodless toes. They looked like the ones I had seen him wearing around the campfire at night.

I smiled faintly at him and let him steady my arm when I stumbled stepping into them. I wiggled my numb toes into the fur lining, the softness feeling wrong, and sipped at my coffee again. I could taste it, but nothing tasted entirely right anymore. The ruin of scar tissue on my tongue didn't taste anything.

My feet started to warm, and I hissed as the pins and needles began. The bright little specks of pain shot up my legs and fizzed in my brain like bubbles, breaking up the ice. I started to shiver so hard I sloshed coffee against my hand, and Remus clucked at me again, unwrapping his long brown wool cloak from his shoulders and wrapping it around mine. I could feel his body heat, lingering in the thick fabric, and my tense muscles softened further under the weight.

I opened my mouth to protest, and he stopped me with a fond, if stern, look.

"I'm wearing at least twice as many layers as you are, even without that. Indulge me. You're making me cold standing there."

I tipped my head and pulled the cloak a little tighter around me. The fur collar brushed the edge of the feathery tattoo just hidden under my shirt. I took a long breath and held it for a moment, smelling Remus and smoke and iron, the thin dead grass and the thick damp wool, and my chest didn't feel as tight. We finished our coffee in companionable silence.

We walked back to camp together, Remus filling the silence with mild gossip the whole way. People were waking up, now, coming out of tents in little knots and clumps, heading toward the campfire. I saw Ron and Hermione duck out of our tent, lifting my chin to acknowledge them once they saw Remus and me.

I didn't smell the smoke until I got close enough to the fire to feel its warmth; another clever bit of the interlocking net of spells that had kept the camp hidden for all this time. I carefully didn't think about how long it had been.

We found a spot to sit in the little natural amphitheater the camp was built around. The Bunker, as they called it, had been spelled right into the flat face of the hill, the doorway hard to see through all the concealment spells. The sunken campfire burned, the smoke rising a few feet above the leaping flames before one of the creatures that ate smoke inhaled them, their ghostly skull faces grinning under stripes of soot. 

I settled on the log next to Remus. My feet were warm in my borrowed slippers. Ron dropped down next to me and sprawled his too-long legs out, Hermione sitting more primly, wrapping her robe tight against the morning chill. She had a scarf wrapped around her neck, almost to her ears.

Slowly, the whole camp trickled in. I wasn't sure how many of us there were. People came and went, day to day. I didn't keep close track of it. It didn't seem all that important, though I knew, of course, it was.

I kept my head down, kept out of the way when they let me, anyway.

People chatted around us, quietly, but nobody talked to the three of us. A respectful distance was left around our log. There was still a long burnt gouge in the ground where I had lashed out at someone who stumbled into me. Whispers carried on the damp cold air, and more than one head had turned as I walked past, their eyes assessing, probing. I knew they were afraid of me. I just... couldn't deal with it right now.

At least Remus didn't seem to be afraid. He hadn't turned away, but I knew it was because he didn't know everything. I wondered if he'd burn his cloak once he found out how filthy I was? I shut my eyes, taking a few deep breaths, my hands tightening into fists under the cloak. I needed to let this go, and this was a bad place to have a 'moment.'

Remus' shoulder pressed into my back as he leaned behind me to talk to someone sitting a row away. The touch grounded me, and I managed to pull myself back under control. 

The war council finally came out of the Bunker, ducking under the woven twig sigil that hid the doorway. Dumbledore, of course, smacked his head on it and rubbed at his forehead wryly as he came forward to stand next to the others. I didn't remember their names, for the most part. They didn't want to talk to me directly, either.

"Good morning, friends," Dumbledore said, his breath a white plume in the cold air. 

He looked older, smaller than I remember. Whatever Voldemort had hit him with during that last battle took something out of him. He moved a little bit slower, laughed a little bit softer. Or, perhaps watching the Death Eaters so thoroughly despoil both his school and his student body had aged him. He wasn't always here; he moved between camps. He had been here when we arrived, greeted us joyfully, and promised to talk to us soon... and hadn't been back since. 

He seemed to be looking everywhere but at the three of us, and I sat up a little, taking more notice of what was going on. 

"I come with glad tidings, for once," he said, leaning hard on his staff. "After several false negatives, we can confirm indeed that Voldemort is, finally, dead."

The crowd burst into noise, everyone standing up to shout at once. Only the three of us sat still, forgotten for just a moment. I looked at Ron and Hermione, my islands of stillness in the chaos, and shrugged one shoulder. We had decided to keep the details of what had happened at the Ball between us, but we knew it would come out eventually. 

Honestly, I was surprised it had taken this long.

I wasn't sure how they were going to react once they realized I hadn't precisely hexed Voldemort to death, as they had assumed once we turned up, bloody and half-frozen, with an emergency portkey Hermione knew about buried in Hagrid's ruined pumpkin patch. They had been overjoyed, but skeptical, since the whole evil empire was chugging along just fine without him it seemed. Dumbledore had left to 'assess the situation.'

"SILENCE!" the dour wizard to Dumbledore's left bellowed, his voice buoyed by a spell to ring out over the din. I ducked my head, watching people find their seats again, Remus settled back next to me, his hand coming up to cup my elbow through the cloak. I could feel the faint tremor in my arm and forced it to be still.

"As Albus was saying, our foe is dead, but yet our fight is not over," the large wizard went on. "Other Death Eaters have taken control over part of Voldemort's empire, but they are a fractious, treacherous lot, and are only barely being held together. We are closer than ever to regaining what was taken from us and restoring what we have lost."

People cheered, but there were questions in the noise. "Who killed him?" "Tell us!" "What happened?" 

The wizard waved for silence, and Dumbledore looked at me for the first time. His eyes were sad and proud. He offered me a small, apologetic smile, and I felt my heart start to thud against my chest. Ice filled me again. They were going to tell the crowd I did it. I took a long shaky breath of air, wanting to run, desperate for just a moment to be somewhere else, somewhere safe. I bowed my head, the back of my neck aching for a hard, calloused hand. _His_ hand, I knew.

For just a second, I swore I could feel his hand ghost over my hair, and my skin prickled, waiting for the touch of his palm. Of course, he wasn't here, but the back of my neck suddenly flared with heat, as if his heavy hand gripped my head tight.

My ears roared with my thundering blood. I winced, for just a second, but the fire was melting the ice, soaking into my bones. I found myself breathing deeply, locking away my emotions, my thoughts, the way that Snape had taught me. I felt the pressure in my chest ease as I dropped into the role, and I saw Remus glance at me as I sat up straighter, chin coming up and shoulders going back. There, I looked more like the hero they would want me to be, instead of the... whatever I was. The hot place on the back of my neck rippled, a ghost of a squeeze of encouragement. 

I looked up at Dumbledore and realized I must have missed the actual announcement because everyone was staring at me. I glanced at Hermione, and her fingers flashed.

:: He asked you to stand,:: she signed.

I rose to my feet, leaving the safety of Remus's warm cloak puddled on the log. Ron and Hermione stood as well, and I felt them falling into place just behind me. We stepped forward together—the three of us, against the world.

I lifted my chin, staring back at the ring of witches and wizards. They waited, and I said nothing.

"Well?" snapped the large wizard, "He's dead, for sure?"

I nodded.

"And you killed him?"

My eyebrows rose a little, and I nodded again. The crowd pressed forward a little, waiting. 

"How?" he said when I didn't offer it.

I had no desire to mime the final minutes of Voldemort's life.

// his claws buried in my hair, his breath hot sour wine in my throat, the slimy flickers of his touch deep inside my mind, plundering my memories as deeply as my body. //

Cold sweat suddenly sprung up on my skin, and the clothes I was wearing felt much too tight. Static crackled in my ears, and I shook my head.

Hermione touched the center of my back, and I shivered and pulled myself together.

After a handful of seconds that felt like a year, Dumbledore sighed and said, "It looks like the story will have to wait for another day. Mr. Potter didn't escape the encounter unscathed, I have been told, and I don't believe his companions wish to tell his tale...?"

I saw Ron's headshake from the corner of my eye, and I couldn't help my lips tweaking up, just a tiny bit. I could feel the smirk creep up to my eyes, and the sour wizard next to Dumbledore narrowed his eyes at me. I looked back at him, and I gave him a little bow with a hand flourish, topped with the manic bright grin I had when I was their savior, their hope. 

Snape used to love beating that particular smile off my face. 

I heard someone behind me start to clap, and then another, and then suddenly the tension broke, and the camp finally realized that Voldemort really was gone, or at least, gone again. People crowded in, hands patting my shoulder and hands grabbing at mine, shaking my hand or pressing knuckles. I was washed away from the safety of Ron and Hermione to be enveloped in a sea of noise and celebration. My breath caught in my throat, but I held it together for a handful of moments, my heart hammering louder and louder. Someone rubbed their hand through my hair, and I jerked my head away, losing my balance in every way.

I heard Remus yelling something.

Hands reached out to catch me. My jumper caught and yanked under my arms, the air icy on my skin. Someone's hand brushed across my lower back, hot, over the tattoo. With horror, I felt the set spell go off; my hole loosened, slicked itself, and the thin hold I had on my panic cracked under the sudden spike of fear. My throat closed, and I slapped away the hands around me. 

I couldn't breathe. My heart was thudding, and I felt like I was going to explode. My vision dimmed.

That static crackling noise happened again, and someone yelped. Ozone burned in my nose, and the air turned thick, purple light crackling over my skin. I arched backward as the ball of panic in my chest burst outward, knocking the hands away, shoving people back by force. Black veins pulsed over my skin, surging up my neck, tracing up over my face. Someone screamed, high, and I flinched away from the noise, throwing my hands up to protect my head.

The barrier pulsed outward, pushing more people away. Light splashed against the barrier as someone tried taking it down. I felt each spell hit, like a slap to already welted skin, and jerked against the ground.

I managed to get a breath in, a thin wheeze leaving me as the purple barrier strobed with the blood pounding in my ears. A handprint appeared in hot plasma white, burning through the shield, pressing through it rather than trying to take it down. It _hurt_ , and I gasped, the pain dissolving the knot in my throat like battery acid on a chocolate frog.

Light flashed again, and there was a sudden change in pressure, my ears popping as Remus forced his fingertips through the barrier and tore a hole big enough for his wand hand. His sleeve was on fire, the skin on his fingers blistering and peeling back, skin flaking off into ash.

I saw his face, drawn with worry, just before his wand spat fire and I gratefully surrendered to the acrid darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, loves, finally got chapter 2 done. Harry is even more broken than I realized, poor little duck.
> 
> I absolutely thrive on feedback. I don't need coffee money, your comments are like sunshine.
> 
> More naughtyness coming, I promise.


	3. Chapter 3

I burned in the dark, a star broken from its path and falling. The soft outer parts of me seared away, leaving only a molten core behind, ready to destroy whatever I crashed into first. The horrible whistle of not-noise in my head got louder and louder as I broke apart.

There was a sound, booming in the oppressive silence, and I felt my head coming up, searching. All the parts of me that had flaked away paused in their retreat. I heard it again, the snap of those long, potion stained fingers calling me to attention, and turned to the noise, blindly seeking. 

Far off, a pale body lay slumped like a puppet with cut strings in a pool of cold white light. The shadow of thick black feathers swirled between us, and suddenly I was standing over him. 

I reached out a hand, felt cold, smooth skin, traced my fingertips up to the long neck, felt the steady drum of his pulse against the pads. His eyes were closed, but his forehead still had a stern line carved into it, as if even unconscious, he wasn’t pleased. 

His arm was heavy as I lifted it, tucking it over my shoulder, curling up in his embrace. The burning in my soul slowly warmed him, and just before I dropped off into more regular sleep, I felt his lips brush my shoulder, where the scars from his teeth hid in the feather tattoo.

“Oh Modha, what have you gotten us into?”

***

I could hear people arguing before I got my eyes open. I felt the softness of a pillow beneath my head, the heavy weight of a thick blanket over me.

“That’s completely unacceptable. He is not only a _hero,_ but he’s survived all of this, somehow, and I won’t-”

“You won’t _do_ anything, werewolf!” snarled another voice, and I heard Remus stifle an angry grunt. “What we will do is continue to protect this community, and I am not about to leave a loaded gun within reach of that castle!”

“He’s not a weapon, he’s a boy, and you can hardly blame him-”

“Blame him? Of course not. But that doesn’t mean he’s not _dangerous._ You saw.”

I heard a couch creek as someone sat down, heavily. “I saw.”

“You know what it was. What he _is.”_

A long, soft sigh. “What he was made into. He’s had no choice in any of this, Scrimgeour.”

There was a sound of heavy crystal and a splash. “Like any of us have had a choice.” The smell of fire whiskey hit my nose, and I turned my head, blinking my gummy eyes open.

Rufus Scrimgeour stood pouring himself a drink. I recognized him, now that he had thrown off his cloak, and his tan overcoat caught the light. I wondered if he was still the head of the Aurors, or even there was such a thing anymore.

He caught my movement and lifted his glass in acknowledgment.

“There he is now,” he said, full of cheer in his voice that never lit his face, “We were just talking about you, Harry. Feeling better?”

He came around the long war table and leaned against it. “We thought perhaps you might feel more comfortable with fewer people around.”

Remus, slouched on a beaten-up couch next to my bed, snorted.

I sat up, carefully, rolling my shoulders. I felt like I had fallen down a flight of stairs. I saw Scrimgeour’s hand tighten on his glass, his eyes observing me.

My mouth was dry, and I glanced at Remus and mimed sipping from a cup. He nodded and pushed himself up, getting me a glass of water. When I took it from him, his fingers lingered on my hand for a moment. I smiled my thanks.

Dumbledore came into the room, accompanied by a short person wrapped head to toe in a huge fluffy cloak. As soon as they got the door closed, there was a flurry of noise, and then Brae shot across the room, peeping the entire time. 

Scrimgeour stood up, his mouth opening to say something, but Brae just went _over_ him, launching off a chair and clearing the Auror’s head by inches. Scrimgeour dove for the ground, sputtering. I got an arm up just as Brae got to me, and he hit the bed hard enough to send it sliding back a few feet.

He crawled up my body, hands reaching out for my face, beak gaping in distress. He felt down each of my arms, made me open and close my fingers, finding my toes under the blankets before he was satisfied I was whole.

“Shhhhh,” I said, stroking my hand over his shaking head. He rubbed his beak across my face, and I glared over at Scrimgeour, who had his wand out and pointing at Brae’s huddling form. 

Remus hadn’t moved.

“Ah, yes, I thought that’s what he wanted,” said Dumbledore, and came over to sit slowly in an armchair. He sighed, sounding tired, and pulled his hat from his head to run his fingers through his hair.

Scrimgeour flicked his wand back into his sleeve and stalked over to pour himself another drink.

Brae finally calmed and lifted his head.

:: I’m ok,:: I signed.

:: I felt you, but I couldn’t get there in time:: he signed back, his movements sharp and distressed. 

I rubbed my hand along his back, up and down, concentrating on shushing him. Curled up like he was, he still felt young, though I knew, of course, Coraxis aged differently.

It occurred to me that I didn’t know how long he was going to live, and a spike of anguish shot through me. My heart thudded hard, my hand crackled with static where it rubbed through the soft black feathers.

Brae shifted, pulling his head up to look at me with a beady black eye. He reached up, placing one clawed hand against my chest. I could feel the heat through my shirt and the blanket. He inhaled, his eyes closing in concentration, and the surge of emotion and pain evaporated like I had just downed one of Snape’s more potent relaxation drugs.

I sighed in relief, my head falling back to thunk against the wall. Brae burped softly and looked horrified, ducking his head. I giggled drunkenly, poking him. After a moment, I remembered we still had an audience, and I looked up to find the three older men regarding us. 

Remus’ face was pinched with worry, Scrimgeour’s eyes blazed with fear or anger, and Dumbledore’s face was heartbreakingly sad.

The effect of whatever Brae had done started to fade, and I shook my head to clear it. I frowned down at Brae, vaguely uneasy.

“Harry,” Remus said, gently, “What just happened, can you tell us?”

I pushed myself up, swinging myself out of the covers. Scrimgeour flinched as I got closer, but I shot him a look and sat down on the couch next to Remus. Dumbledore sat forward a little bit more, his face carefully clear of that terrible disappointment. 

Remus was still looking at me. I shrugged and shook my head. Brae settled down next to me, perched on the arm of the couch more than sitting.

Scrimgeour grunted. “Convenient. Don’t know, or won’t tell us, Potter?”

I glared at him with as much fire as I could muster, which wasn’t a lot at the moment. 

Remus was staring at me, at my mouth. “You haven’t spoken since you’ve been back. Honestly, I thought it was self-defense, but...” his fingers reached for my face, and I let him gently open my mouth. 

Scrimgeour leaned over his shoulder to look. “Oh, dammit all,” he said, and leaned away, looking stunned. “Did Snape do that to you?”

My mouth snapped shut, and I shook my head. 

“Why didn’t you tell us? The healers-”

I shook my head again and motioned for a pen and paper.

Dumbledore conjured a long feathered quill and a notebook. There was a small drawing of a speaker at the top. “It will read what you write,” he said.

“Thank you,” I wrote, and the book read it out, managing a decent version of my voice.

“Why didn’t you tell us, Harry?” Dumbledore said, and I thought for a second before responding.

“Healed as it happened. Didn’t think to ask the healers once we got back.”

“And if Snape didn’t do it...” Scrimgeour let the sentence hang, and I shrugged one shoulder.

“Voldemort bit it off.” I wrote, the words as sharp as the quill scratching them out. 

Remus stiffened next to me. I could feel him taking a deep breath. Brae tipped his head at Remus, and his fingers flicked at me.

:: He’s angry. Is he your nestmate? ::

:: He is the nestmate of my Godfather,:: I signed back, and Brae accepted that as “close enough to family” that he reached over and patted Remus’s shoulder.

Remus looked startled, but his shoulders loosened, and he smiled at Brae.

“Ach, see, it just did it again!” Scrimgeour said, pointing at Brae. “And this time, Potter told him to!”

“I didn’t tell him to do anything!” I scribbled frantically. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about!”

“Don’t give me that. You’ve been keeping things from us since you got here! What else haven’t you told us?” Scrimgeour stood up, advancing on me like he was going to force me to tell him.

The wildness that used to drive me to bite Snape’s foot overcame me with no warning, my vision going red as I roared and launched myself over the book. I caught Scrimgeour around the waist and bowled him over backward. 

Scrimgeour rolled, his wand coming up, but I was too close, and my hand slammed down on his chest.

 _“Quiesco."_ I said, my voice a guttural snarl I shouldn’t have even been able to make. Scrimgeour spasmed, his form blurring as he shook supernaturally fast for a heartbeat, and then passed out, his head lolling.

Energy surged into me, my fingers burning, my mouth dropping open in a silent scream. It felt like I had inhaled the sun. My skin buzzed and cracked with white tongues of lightning. 

Brae’s hands closed around my head, and there was a sucking feeling like my skull was going to come apart. I could smell burning hair. 

And then everything went dark. Again. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, damnit, Harry, there was supposed to be porn in this chapter! What do you mean you don't care? Get right back here this instant, mister!
> 
> Damn characters, you never can tell what they are going to do. It's coming, I promise. XD


	4. Chapter 4

Whatever they had given me while I was out was strong. I could barely twitch a finger, even when Remus tucked the blanket in over my shoulders. I looked up at him, blurry until he leaned closer, realizing my glasses were gone. I could see the grey in his brown hair as he leaned over me, buckling the thick leather straps across the blanket. He was scruffier than when I had last seen him, but that awful tidy mustache he had at school had escaped and grown down his jaw. This close, the scars on his face looked more like warpaint, cutting through the short beard. I wanted to get his attention, but my body was just too heavy to move.

I swallowed, forcing a weak, rusty “R’mus,” through protesting muscles, and he looked up, his face warming into a smile.

“Hey, there. You shouldn’t be awake, but nice to hear your voice.”

I tried to pull at the straps but only managed to shift my shoulder a little bit. “Wha?”

Remus patted my shoulder. “We are moving the camp. You managed to blow four out of five of our concealment spells, and while nobody’s come looking yet...”

I nodded, too drugged to feel any shame but then looked deliberately at his hands, which had gone back to buckling the straps down. His gaze followed, and he sighed, spreading his fingers in apology before folding them.

“I’d tell you they’re for your protection more than theirs, but you’re smarter than that even doped to the eyebrows.” The scars on his face pulled as he smiled.

I nodded. “‘Sc’im’-” but his name was too hard, and I stopped. 

Remus gave me a sip of water. I could taste the potion in it but drank it anyway. “Flatly refused to allow you in any camp unless you were made ‘safe’,” Remus hooked his fingers into air quotes, “and, since they have no idea how to do that, you’re stuck with me, Dwt, until we can help you figure that out.”

“Brae?”

“Going with us, of course. Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger, as well. They’ve been painted with the same brush they tarred you with, I’m afraid.”

I looked down at the straps again and frowned. Remus caught my look and shook his head. “Nope, they are freely packing your tent at the moment and will be settling in by the time we get there, though I suspect there are a half-dozen people watching them at the moment.”

He tucked a clump of hair off my forehead. “Honestly, I only agreed to the straps to keep you from rolling off when we moved the bed, since everyone is too chickenshit to try to charm you at the moment, but if it keeps Scrimgeour off our arses, we should take it, hm?”

That sounded very reasonable, which I was pretty sure was the drugs talking, but Remus hadn’t actually taken his hand off of my head. The weight was comforting, and I rubbed my head into his hand without thinking about it.

Remus made a soft sound and stroked the backs of his knuckles over my hair, petting my head. My eyelids were drooping, and Remus hummed. “Go back to sleep. We will talk when you wake up, I promise.”

As I slipped under, I felt him check the buckles on the straps, one more time.

***

“Modah, follow me. Bili, Taru, report to the kitchens,” Snape said one evening after dinner, and Taru sighed deeply but helped Bili stand, unfolding carefully from the kneeling position we had been in for an hour. They both had many small welts, marks from Snape’s attention earlier.

Snape waved them away after they paused, waiting for permission, and they slipped out the door. Snape was doing some kind of calculation, had been all afternoon. Several feet of rejected diagrams lay around the foot of his desk, ripped from the main scroll as he went back and forth from books to his work. 

The stone was cold against my knees, and I wiggled my toes. The movement caught Snape’s eyes.

“Still, Modah,” he snapped, and I clenched my teeth, fighting to stay motionless. After a long moment in which I could feel his gaze, he snapped his fingers, and I rolled up into an upright kneel, gratefully.

Snape was regarding me, twirling the quill in his long fingers. I met his gaze, though I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Finally, he nodded to himself and gestured at me to stand.

He came closer, grabbing my wrists and pulling my arms out into a T. I held still, watching his face as he used his wand to measure out the length of my forearm, the width of my chest. Behind him, the quill scratched out something on the parchment. He knelt to measure my shin, and then froze, his hand gripping my ankle hard.

Without looking up, he said, “It’s been a long time since I felt safe enough to kneel at another’s feet.”

I looked down at his head, bowed, his long hair hiding his face. It had never occurred to me that he had knelt and meant it for  _ anyone _ , let alone that he would find safety in it, and for just a moment, my hand started to drop, as if to touch him.

His nails dented my skin. “I didn’t say you could move.”

I snapped back into position, but my easy calm of earlier was broken. The image of Snape kneeling was doing odd things to my stomach. He looked up at me, still on his knees, and there was some emotion on his face I couldn’t place.

Snape slid his hands up my legs, the rough spots on his palms catching the hair. He shifted, calling a cushion toward him with his wand and settling cross-legged on it; his bare feet had a faint layer of grime on them. 

He fanned his fingers open, and a glowing golden sphere of light appeared in his palm. He turned his hand, and the ball floated off to the side. He tapped at it a few times, and it changed colors faintly. “Give me your hands,” he said, measuring each finger, the width of my wrist. He traced his thumbs over my palm, and a little noise of pleasure escaped me. The sphere brightened and then faded again.

“Hush,” he said, and I stilled. He continued rubbing my hand, watching the sphere, tracing some kind of pattern I didn’t understand. At one point, he curled my pinky down into my palm and placed the tip of his thumb just below the nail. “Breathe,” he said, glancing up at me, and I took a deep breath, trying not to tense. Snape turned back to the glowing ball. 

I watched as it imploded, going from bright gold to blacklight purple as Snape pressed the knuckle hard into my palm, and pain shot up my arm. I jerked involuntarily, and he made a displeased noise. “Stay still, or I’ll have to start over,” he said softly, and I nodded, even though he wasn’t looking at me.

Snape uncurled the finger and rubbed the pain away, and the sphere slowly brightened back into the soft gold it had started in. He stared at it again and then summoned the scroll and quill from his desk to check whatever the quill had been recording. He thumped the parchment against my thigh, using me as a convenient writing surface. 

The tip of the quill was sharp, even through the parchment. I watched him as he worked, saw him squint and do some kind of calculation in the air. He leaned closer, drawing out a diagram, and I hissed softly as the quill raked across my skin. I found my eyes sliding closed, the thin, hot, line tracing and looping and stuttering as he continued.

Snape made a pleased noise, and he slid one hand up the scroll, unfurling it up my stomach. “Hold that,” he said absently, and I slid my thumb into the roll, keeping it from falling. 

He was double-checking something in the upper part of the scroll, pushing up onto his knees to look at the tiny handwriting, nodding to himself every few seconds. I could feel the warmth from his body against my legs. He started drawing again, the quill scratching along my lower stomach. I could feel heat pooling in my belly. My cock thickened.

A particularly long line sliced across the scroll, Snape’s hand open flat against my stomach to hold the parchment still. The quill raked across my cock, and a whimper escaped me. 

Snape looked up at me, and his lip tweaked up. He gestured, and the golden sphere rose up to his eye level. He held my gaze as he deliberately redrew over the swell of my cock, and the sphere strobed gold and purple as the line of fire made me harder.

“Well then,” Snape said and sat back on his heels. He plucked the scroll off my body and sent it back to the desk with a wave of his hand. He kept the quill. A flick of his fingers and my loincloth slid to the floor, he leaned forward, quill in hand.

The first touch of the nib to the skin of my stomach made me swallow hard. It felt a lot sharper without the layer of parchment between us. Snape slid his other hand over my hip, holding me still. More blood pumped into my cock as my heart started to pound.

“Hold, Modah,” he said, and I sucked in a breath through my teeth as the quill dragged fire across my skin. Snape made another pleased noise and rubbed his finger along the line he had drawn. My rising cock bumped into his hand, and he tsk’ ed.

“I said, hold still,” he said, but there was a teasing note to it. I froze as his fingers slowly wrapped around my cock from the base, one at a time. Each tightened a little more, so by the time his thumb folded just under the head, I was panting, trying to hold still. I could feel my pulse against his fingers. 

Snape looked up at me, and then at the pen. The smile on his face made the trembling in my belly worse. He twirled the long quill, the graceful black sweep of the feather mesmerizing. 

“Shall I have you choose? Which would you prefer, the soft or the sharp?” Snape stood without letting go of his grip on my cock. The brush of his open robe, the weave of his linen shirt against my cock sent shivers through my muscles, and I rose up on the balls of my feet. Even with that, he was still taller than me, and now I looked up at him. His eyes caught mine, and he arched a dark eyebrow.

I whimpered as he brushed my swollen cockhead with the feather. The slight touch lit the nerves like electricity, and I jerked. His fist tightened around me, not letting me get away. He started brushing back and forth, just barely stroking my cock with the feather each time.

“Well, which is it? You know what this feels like, aren’t you curious about the other?”

The feather was driving me mad. I could feel my face getting hot, sweat breaking out all over my skin. My panted, open-mouthed, and Snape’s eyes dropped to the movement. I bit my lip as he swirled the feather over my balls, dusted it up my stomach and ghosted it over my nipples.

A gasp escaped me, and Snape’s eyes crinkled at the corners a tiny bit as his lips rolled up into that familiar smirk. “I haven’t taken your voice, and I asked you a question, you know.” The feather never stopped its tour of my body as he spoke, sliding down my ribs while I squirmed and tried to stand still. His hand flexed on my cock in warning, and I felt a drop of precome ooze out, wetting his thumb.

“Hm? No comment? How unlike you,” Snape said, swirling the tip of his thumb over my cockhead. The feather slid across both nipples, torturously slow. Gooseflesh raced down my spine, out through my limbs, making the hair on my forearms stood on end. I felt like even my head hair was standing up.

Snape’s smirk got a little bigger, and he started to gently pump my cock, still playing with my cockhead like he was polishing a stubborn spot off of a cauldron. 

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out but a faint whimper. I could hardly think. Snape added a twist to his stroke, and my eyes closed tight, wanting to move, to thrust into the vice of his grip, but I knew I had to stay still. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, in my cock. I felt my balls pull tight, my stomach clench.

Suddenly all of it was gone, the stroke and the feather and the maddening grip of his fist. Even the warmth of his body was replaced by the swirling air of his office, the contrast making it feel like ice water.

I cried out, my eyes opening, my hands reaching for him before I forced them back to my sides. I trembled, a long line of precome drooling from my cock to splatter the stones at my feet. 

Snape was leaning on his desk, legs crossed, looking at me. He was twirling the quill through his fingers again, and my fist clenched, trying to get my breathing back under control. My eyes slid shut as I took a deep breath. My nipples ached as if they had been pinched, even the faint trickle of sweat gathering and rolling down my chest making me tremble.

“Well?” he said after a few seconds, and I peeled my eyes open. “What is your answer?”

My cock was so hard. I looked at him, his smug expression and the damn feather, and felt the fire in my belly twist into something... else. My spine loosened, and I slouched, my hands unclenching and smoothing down my thighs. “I dunno,” I said, trying to sound as bored and indolent as possible. “What was the question?”

Snape’s eyes flashed, and he was on me in a second, his hand in my hair, pulling my head backward and down, farther and farther until I tried to step back to keep from falling, but his leg swept mine out from under me, and I hit the stones with a thud, his hand the only thing keeping my skull whole. The air punched out of me, and I lay stunned for a moment.

Snape straddled my body while I lay gaping like a fish, and slammed my wrists to the stone above my head with a twist of his wand, where fat black ropes writhed out of the ground to hold me still. His weight pressed my legs to the stone, his knees pressed to the outside of my thighs.

His cock was hard, and I ground my leg into him, feeling it snag against his fly. I felt him tremble, starting in his hips and rolling up through the top of his head. He growled and reached down to free himself from his pants, shifting his hips so I couldn’t touch him. 

“Please,” I murmured, and his eyes caught mine again, hot and glittering. He leaned forward to shove three fingers into my mouth, deep, and I gagged and licked at his fingers. Spit leaked around the width of his knuckles. I could taste my cock on his skin.

“Pretty begging won’t distract me from the fact that you forgot your question, boy,” his voice was harsh, but he slid his wet hand down to curl around my cock again, and I arched into the touch. He stroked my cock hard and fast, his other hand twisting leisurely over his own. 

“Sorry?” I tried, the innocent look I was going for ruined by the gasp he pulled out of me with a swirl over the head.

“I’m sure,” he said, settling himself more comfortably on me. “Well, if you have missed that question, perhaps a different one will be easier for you. Paying attention, this time?”

I nodded, licking my dry lips. 

“Since I had already decided to give you a choice this evening, and you so royally blew your first one, this one should be easier.”

Snape’s hand on my cock slowed to a crawl, slow enough that I could feel the calluses on his fingers catch on my foreskin. His other hand drifted up to pluck at my hard nipples. The faint musk from his cock rose from his fingers. I moaned, my mouth watering.

“So, Modah, what will it be?” Snape said, conversationally. “Shall I tease you for an hour before I let you come, keeping you right on the edge but not letting you relief, filling with my cock over and over but keeping you hard and weeping...” his fingers brushed in tiny circles over my nipple, making it hard to think, “... or would you rather come five times in that same span, each time harder than the last, so that by the time we are done both your cock and your throat is raw from begging me to stop?”

My eyes rose to meet his, my breath a thin wheeze, my cock pounding with my pulse. 

Snape leaned closer, the slide of his cheek against my jaw making me shiver. I felt his nose nudge my hair out of the way, and the wet heat of his breath against my skin. My eyes slid shut as he murmured into my ear, softly, tenderly.

“Either way, I’ll have you screaming by half past the hour.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flail!
> 
> Well, that took a day longer than I intended, but hurray, the porn is back! I know, I know, too much plot in all this porn. :D
> 
> Let me know how you liked it, eh? I'm also loving all the speculation about what is going on. Give me your theories, if you dare.


	5. Chapter 5

My favorite place to sit, in the isolation camp, was on the porch of the cabin I shared with Remus and Brae. I had dragged a big armchair out of the front room and stuck it right up next to the railing, so I could sit and watch the bitterly cold waves lash the coast. Sometimes the wind brought me the mist, salty and fresh and nothing like a damp old castle. 

Remus hadn’t raised an eyebrow when he found me curled up there before dawn the morning after we fled the camp in the Forbidden Forest. He just shrugged and brought a pot of water for tea and a loaf of soda bread and sharp cheese and sat with me as the sun came up, leaning on the railing and passing me slices every time I finished the last one.

The gulls on the rocks screamed at each other and squabbled over bits of scrap on the rocky beach. 

None of it was real, of course. Well, the cabin and the cheese and such, but the beautiful coast, the sunrise, and the open expanse of gray sky? All illusion.

Remus said that the view was from his cabin in Wales, and had set up the rest of the camp to resemble the area. We were actually in a mountain, somewhere. Nobody had told me exactly where, but I suppose I didn’t blame them.

After finishing his first mug of tea, Remus sighed and stretched, watching the birds swoop and dive. It was weird to see him like this, somewhere he felt safe and at home. All he was wearing was a pair of jeans and a sleeveless shirt, printed with some band I’d never heard of. Like Remus, the shirt had seen better days, and was worn thin and ripped in places. A line of safety pins held one tear closed.

“So, your companions will be along in half an hour, or so, and I promised we’d talk. There’s a lot to talk about, I’m afraid,” Remus said, still looking out across the water.

I snorted, and he turned to look at me, half smiling. I tapped my lips, and he shook his head at me.

“Don’t think your lack of tongue is getting you out of it, mister. I have a temporary solution for that, and later we can talk about a long term fix.” Remus fished something out of his pocket and tossed it to me.

The false sun glinted off the stone.

I caught it, the chain slapping into my arm with a little sting that sent a spark down my spine. I frowned at my reaction and dangled the pendant to look at the charm. It rotated lazily. 

It was a gargoyle about the size of a walnut, roughly carved out of light grey stone. A tiny depression on the gargoyle’s head led to its open, grinning mouth. Small grains of sand came off on my fingers when I pulled the simple leather thong through the loop carved into the wings, and I rubbed them together. Remus looked a little embarrassed. 

“Hm, usually I finish things a little better than that. Here, hand it back for a second.”

I handed him the charm, watched as he used the corner of his battered shirt to polish the stone and inspect it for rough spots, hold it up to his eye and blow off any remaining bits. He deemed it good enough, and set it in the center of his palm, regarding it.

“There’s an old Muggle legend that a stone gargoyle can speak when rainwater is flowing through its mouth,” he said and held up to my mouth. “Spit.”

I managed to get a little spit to my lips, tipped my head so it would drip down. Remus caught the drop in the gargoyle’s basin and then dropped the loop around my neck.

My eyes shut, waiting to feel something. When nothing happened, I opened them and squinted at Remus.

“Going to have to say something to see if it works, Dwt.”

Making myself speak was harder than I thought it should be. I just... didn’t want to. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

Remus watched me for a moment, and then went into the house, returning moments later with a small table and a chair, setting them up so he was across from me. He pulled a deck of cards out of his back pocket and slapped them on the table.

“Wanna play ‘go fish’?”

By the time Hermione and Ron arrived from their little cabin on the other side of the fallow garden, I was managing to make small talk, and had gotten used to the way my voice rose from the gargoyle, instead of my throat. All I had to do was... not think about it. And after all, I was very good at that.

Ron’s face broke into a bright smile as they walked up. “Hey, that sounds pretty good, how’re you pulling that off?” 

I flicked the gargoyle with my thumb. “Remus made it.”

Ron and Hermionie came up the stairs, and paused, blockaded from the rest of the porch by my chair. 

“Good morning,” said Remus brightly. “I had intended us to eat breakfast inside, but it seems that Harry has decided that out here is nicer. Let me make a little bit more room...”

Remus turned away from us, took a few short, sharp breaths, and then flicked his fingers out. A weird tension caught the air, vibrating in my teeth. The porch stretched, becoming broader and deeper. Two more battered couches grew out of the wood like mushrooms, pulling their feet off of the deck and shaking themselves into cushions and throws. The smaller of the two wagged its end and split off a pillow, which grew legs and plopped down as an ottoman while the others turned and curled up on either side of my old chair. 

Whatever magic Remus was using made my inner ears itch, crawled up my nose, tickled across any exposed skin. I saw Ron work his jaw like he was trying to make his ear pop, so it wasn’t just me.

And it wasn’t just the porch, either, because suddenly Brae banged open the cabin door and came racing out, sliding to a stop a foot or two from Remus, eyes wide and beak gaping.

 _‘His resonance is off_ ,’ I thought, and frowned because I didn’t even know what that meant. 

The shivery, itching feeling abruptly stopped, and Remus sagged a little and shook out his hands. He turned back to us, a small smile on his face, and barked a laugh when he saw us, shocked and silent.

“Professor Lupin-” Hermionie said, and Remus raised a hand.

“No, please, I am not your professor, not for years now. Call me Remus, for the love of God.” He waved them into a couch and threw himself into the one with the ottoman, propping his bare feet on it with a sigh. Brae came and sat on the arm of my chair, leaning on the overstuffed back. “And let me get us something to eat, before the questions. We have a lot to talk about, I know.”

Hermione and Ron sat on the other couch, and Remus pulled his wand and summoned a proper breakfast from the kitchen. Hermione waited until all of us had filled a plate and had gotten a few bites in before setting her cup down with an audible click.

“Alright, _Remus_ ,” she said, and he acknowledged the name with a salute of the pear he was eating, “You keep promising to explain something, _anything_ , but we keep being put off. If you are actually going to tell us something, I have a list.” She started ticking off questions on her fingers, her voice a little more strained with each one. “What is going on with Harry? How did you get through that shield he made? And what the heck did you just do? I’ve never felt anything like that. Also-”

Remus threw his half-eaten pear at her, and she stopped in shock when it hit her in the chest, juice splashing into all of our faces. I stared at him, dumbfounded. He grabbed a banana out of the bowl and held it up, staring between Ron and I like he was aiming. We all froze for one long heartbeat.

Ron scrambled for ammo just before the banana hit him in the head, and the food fight was on. Hermione dove under the table. I scooped up a spoonful of jam and flicked it at Remus when he leaned in to grab for more fruit, and he laughed as the glop exploded against his cheek.

“Oh, we’re escalating to semi-solids, I see?” he said gleefully, and thumped his palms down against the table hard. My ears itched for just a second, and then more bowls grew from the battered wood, filling themselves with various gloopy, slimy foods: chocolate pudding, trifle, some kind of ice cream tower that was already melting, candied fruit and marshmallow mice and a whole pile of chocolate frogs that immediately leapt in all directions.

I cackled as Brae went after the frogs, and he shot me a look as he clacked one up and spat out the chocolate. I threw a handful of plum pudding at him, and he quorked indignantly as it stuck to his feathers.

I reached for more pudding, but the bowl I was using was sliding away from me, tugging along with the napkin that Hermione was pulling on. I saw her hand come up from under the table and snag the fruit bowl when it got close enough, and a second later, she popped up with a wild yell, rapid-firing crab apples at us.

Ron tried to catch one in his mouth and failed spectacularly, and it bounced off his forehead and arced through the air to splat into the bowl of oatmeal in the center of the table. Lukewarm porridge erupted and hit all of us, and I fell backward, hair stuck to my face, my glasses covered. My throat hurt, and I was making a harsh, braying noise that I couldn’t identify for a few long, gasping breaths.

I was laughing, _laughing_ , like I hadn’t in what felt like a lifetime. My knees buckled, and I fell back into my chair, my stomach aching.

Ron and Hermione weren’t any better off. Hermione’s hair was blown back and stuck in gluey ringlets, and she was curled up like a niffler around the fruit bowl, red-faced and crying with laughter. Ron wasn’t making any noise, just holding his sides and trying to wipe oatmeal off his face at the same time.

Even Brae was laughing, perched on Remus’ overturned ottoman like a pirate, but he was watching me with that bird intensity that made me feel like a bug. 

My face was wet, tears I hadn’t noticed dripping off my cheeks. The laughter rose in waves from my belly, gushing out of me like vomit. The joy was changing, something else taking over, but I was still shaking, unable to stop. I managed to get my hands up to my face, ashamed that I couldn’t even _laugh_ correctly, when I heard a sob from my left.

“Shhh, Ron, it’s quite alright,” Remus was murmuring, and I lifted my head. Ron had twisted around, pressing his face into Remus’s side. Hermione was trembling, curled up, her arms wrapped around her head.

I crawled over the arm of my chair, worming my way between them. Remus plucked my glasses off my face and tucked them into the neck of his shirt. They both turned to me like sunflowers, and I wrapped my arms around them, holding tight. The tears were still flowing, filling the tiny gap of space between my face and the back of Ron’s neck, overflowing and running down the black line of the tattoo. He smelled like oatmeal. 

I could feel Remus’s hand on my back, rubbing in soft circles. His voice continued, quiet encouragement, and slowly, slowly, the storm ebbed. My sobs became hiccoughs, and I felt Ron’s knotted muscles unclench by inches. Hermione, as usual, had ended up in the center, and was nearly asleep, holding one of each of our hands tight against her chest.

The waves crashed on the beach. The gulls called to each other and fought over fish.

A warm, damp cloth draped over my face, and I breathed in the steam. It smelled faintly of lavender and some other herb I couldn’t place. I sat up, carefully, and Hermione and Ron unfolded with me. I was half in Ron’s lap, and I felt like I should move, but I was so tired I could barely lift my arms, so I just... laid on him. My head was on Hermione’s stomach. She smelled like pears and saltwater.

I washed the food and snot and tears from my face, feeling raw. Remus set my glasses gently back on my face, and waved his wand over us, the mess fizzing off of our clothes and skin until we were clean and dry. Hermione’s hair took longer and was still faintly bubbly as the three of us untangled, and I crept back into my overstuffed chair. Either because I didn’t have the energy, or because I didn’t want to stop touching them at the moment, my feet ended up over the arm, still in Ron’s lap. Hermione was tucked under his arm, her hand resting on my ankle. He had his head over the back of the couch, but his fingers were gripped tight in the material of my shirt as if to make sure I didn’t drift away.

Brae, looking damp and a little unkempt, crawled into my lap and curled up, tucking his head under my chin.

Remus pulled a blanket made of many squares off the back of the couch and draped it over us, charming it a little bit longer so that it’d cover all of us.

“But it’s too early for a nap...” Hermione said, already snuggling her face into the blanket.

“Hush, we make the rules here. Naps after brekky sound delightful.”

It did sound nice. Brae curled his fingers into my shirt, and I folded my hand around Ron’s fist and rubbed my toes against Hermionie’s ribs, back and forth. 

As I sank gently into sleep, I thought I heard Snape’s voice, like he was standing just behind me, murmuring into my ear. “Messy, but effective. We will see how dirty he’s willing to get his paws, yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this one was a roller-coaster, eh ducklings? Hope it didn't give anyone emotional whiplash. 
> 
> Any ideas on what Remus is doing?
> 
> Chapter 6 is in progress. :D


	6. Chapter 6

“Modah, wake up.”

The waves were very loud.

I rolled in my sleep, pulling the blanket up closer under my chin as the wind brought a mist of spray across my face, and then blinked awake as I realized it wasn’t the soft afghan made of squares from Remus’s cabin, but the thick blanket from my bed in Snape’s office. I licked my lips, thinking for one moment that the last month of freedom had been a fever dream, but my tongue was the ruin of scar tissue it has been since the night of the Ball.

“Come now, quit stalling,” Snape said, and I sat up, cautiously.

I was in my bed, but we weren’t in Snape’s office. Instead, we were on the cold Welsh beach in front of the cabin, the foot of my bed awash every few waves. 

Snape stood next to my bed, staring out to sea, his arms folded across his chest. The cold wind plucked at his bone-white shirt, grabbed hunks of his hair, washed dark kelp around his bare feet.

I scrambled away from him, falling off the far side of my bed to land hard in the stones. My ass twinged, and clenched, and I felt come sliding down my thighs as I got to my feet. I could taste it in my mouth, on parts of a tongue I no longer had.

The gargoyle around my neck burned, and I clenched a hand around it, feeling its weight.

“You’re not real,” I said, and it sounded almost convincing.

Snape glanced at me and raised one eyebrow. “Am I not? Good to know.” He looked back over the water, watching the birds.

I glared at him. “I’m in the isolation camp. I escaped.”

“Both true.”

“And you aren’t real.”

Snape sighed and finally turned to me, dropping his hands. I found myself looking at his fingers, thinking about them in my mouth. I shook my head. 

“If it makes you feel better, you can tell yourself I’m a figment of your imagination, I suppose.” Snape walked leisurely around my bed toward me, and I knew I should run, but he was so _close_ , and it had been so long...

Snape wrapped himself around me from behind, his lips brushing the back of my neck. My head dropped forward, and I sagged into his solid warmth. Seawater washed cold over my ankles. I could hear the gulls screaming.

His palms slid up my sides, fingers walking my ribs like a crab, stained nails catching lightly at my skin. I shivered. His hands crept over my chest, one spreading out over my heart, the other curling around my throat. I moaned, blood pooling in my cock, my ears. He tipped my head back with his thumb, and I rested my head against his shoulder. He made a pleased noise I couldn’t hear over the thunder of the waves, but I felt rumble up from his chest. 

Feeling damned, I gave in to desire and nuzzled his neck. His hand on my throat tightened briefly, and I felt myself melt farther into him. The water pulled at the legs of my pants, higher now. I tried to lick him and whined as scar tissue scraped at his skin. He made a faint, sad noise and slipped his thumb into my mouth for me to suck on. My lips closed around him, and I moaned, the taste of his skin after so long without heady, even with half a tongue.

He leaned me backward, off-balance, and I didn’t try to hold myself up.

“Such a good boy for me, Modah,” he said into my ear, and my stomach clenched, my heart thudding against his palm. My face went hot. “Hm, you do like that, don’t you. My good, good boy.”

I groaned around his thumb, my cock suddenly achingly hard in my pants. He hmmed again and walked us backward the few steps to my bed, pulling me along with him. He sat against the headboard, one wet foot carelessly propped in the center of my quilt, and draped me over his lap, head still lolling on his shoulder. He slid another finger into my mouth, thrusting lazily. His hand over my heart slid down, fingertips brushing over my nipple on the way.

The gargoyle necklace hissed and spat where it hit the back of his hand, like a drop of blood in a hot cauldron. He looked down at it and smirked. “Clever boy, your wolf. He’s better than he was, last time we met.”

I wanted to ask him, better at what, but his hand was moving down my stomach, and I arched up, my cock trapped and leaking. “Now now, don’t be greedy. Hold still.”

I melted against him, one foot dangling in the surf, which was up to mid-knee. I sucked harder at his fingers, felt his cock bump my spine.

Snape’s hand cupped me through my pants, and I fought to stay still. He nuzzled my hair. “Good boy,” he said, his voice thick and warm, and I shivered, gasping.

“You’ve been such a good boy, in fact, you deserve a reward.” His fingers working the button on my fly open almost made me come. The head of my cock was wet. He slid the zipper open on my fly open so slowly I could feel the tiny click as each tooth disengaged. The wind bit at me through the damp cloth of my underwear. 

I moaned around his fingers, dirty and loud, when he hauled my cock out into the weak Welsh sunlight. The shadows of the gulls flying overhead cast dark silhouettes on our skin. A wave broke over my footboard, soaking the blanket in salty water.

Snape’s hand wrapped around me, slick with oil somehow, and I thrust up into his loose fist. “That’s it, Modah, take what you want.”

His fingers dragged spit from my mouth and closed a little tighter around my throat, and the feeling of safety and security grew. I fucked my cock into the grip of his fist, and he murmured filthy, devastating things into my ear, punctuating statements by sucking my earlobe between his teeth. 

“You did better than I could have hoped for, with less training. I fully expected to be putting you back together for _months_.” He licked a long striped down my neck, biting gently at the feathered expanse of the tattoo on my shoulder. His hand sped up on my cock, twisting his wrist, working me perfectly. I could feel my orgasm coming, unstoppable as a train.

“And not only did you actually kill the black bastard, you walked away from it!” His voice was soft but amazed. Admiring, even. “All three of you. Completely unexpected.” His hand on my throat rippled, and I moaned, my stomach clenching.

“You look good like this, you know. Spread-out, wanton, not fighting what you want. What you want to let me _do_ to you.” His hips pressed up, his cock hard against my back. “Had we more time, we could have gone so much farther, you and I.”

My pulse thundered in my ears, my hands clenched into fists in the wet bedding. The waves crashed against the bed, pulled at the blankets. I rolled my head, panting, needing just a little bit more.

Snape slid his hand around my jaw, into my hair, cupping my head and bringing my mouth to his. “Come, Harry,” he said and caught my scream in his mouth as I arched, the waves crashing over us. 

As we went under, I heard him whisper, “My good boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus smut chapter!


	7. Chapter 7

The water was icy cold, and I gasped, jerking awake, flailing in the wet blanket. I started trembling immediately, all the warmth sucked out of me by the freezing water. I managed to sit up, gasping, my teeth chattering.

Remus was standing a few yards back, still holding the bucket he had doused me with, peering at me indecisively. Another bucket of water stood ready at his feet. Ron and Hermione stood just behind him, holding Brae back.

Around me, the porch was a ruin of charred wood and blackened, melted couches, steaming piles of kelp and small twitching shorelife. 

I gaped at the destruction.

“W-w-what’d I d-dd-do?” I managed, and Remus tossed the bucket aside and was at my side in a few long strides. He stripped the wet blanket off of me and hauled me off the soaked couch into his arms, holding me tight for a long moment.

“For Artemis’s sake, I thought we lost you for a second,” he said into my wet hair, and I hung on the best I could, shuddering so hard I couldn’t stand. Ron’s arm slid under my armpit, and they half carried me inside the cabin between them.

“Get his wet things off, he’s freezing,” Remus said, and they peeled me out of my sodden clothing. My pockets were full of sand and stones, my skin pale as bleached driftwood. Water pooled at my feet, rivulets of sand forming pale veins on the old wood floor. A strand of seaweed wrapped around my chest, a dark line leaking from the stark black of my tattoo. My fingers were so numb it took me three tries to pull it off.

Hermione pulled her wand, but Remus stopped her with a shake of his head, rubbing me with a towel briskly. “Better not, we don’t know if it’ll set it off again.”

I tried to help, but my hands were shaking too hard.

Ron came back from a bedroom, dragging every blanket in the cabin along with him, along with a pillowcase full of socks and hats. The three of them bundled me up until I could barely move, and then Remus tucked me on the couch between Hermione and Ron and started a kettle on the stove. Brae hopped up on the back of the sofa and gripped my cocoon of blankets, making distressed clicks.

Outside the front window, the porch was slowly putting itself together, the wooden beams helping each other upright and knitting itself whole with grumpy little noises that echoed through the cabin.

Remus poured steaming water into four huge mugs and dumped cocoa in, the spoons all gently stirring themselves as he scooped them up and brought them over, pressing one into my hand. I gulped at the hot liquid, shaking my head as the first mouthful went down like fire. It seemed to make the shivering worse, as the warmth in my gut made the rest of me feel even colder. I held the heavy clay mug against my chest, the heat radiating.

My nose tickled and burned, and I rubbed at it with numb fingers. There was a sharp pinch, and I sneezed something hard into my hand. It was a little spiral shell, striped black and white. “What?” I said, my voice rough. “What the _f-fuck_ is happening to me?”

A tiny crab peeked out of the shell in my hand and started to crawl around, dragging its striped home along with it.

Remus stared down at the little creature, his face lit with an emotion I couldn’t place. He held out a finger, and the little crab climbed aboard. He brought it up to his face and the little crab threatened to attack, waving a claw the size of a grain of rice.

“Huh,” Remus said, and in my head, I imagined I could hear Snape, saying the same thing.

Remus grabbed a jar half full of marmalade on the counter and squinted at it hard. My teeth itched, and I gulped more cocoa. The jam drained away into nothing and the jar briefly steamed as it cleaned itself. Remus kept looking at the little crab, which was picking at something under his nail. He filled the jar with the pebbles and sand from the pockets of my discarded pants, then wrung the water from the cloth, making a tiny ocean with an island, all without looking away from the creature on his finger.

“Are you i-ignoring me on-p-purpose or is my nose-crab important?” I said as Remus set the little crab on the island and then set the jar on the windowsill. Hermione’s hand wormed through the blankets and curled around my side.

“Ach, sorry, lad, it’s just...” he trailed off, sitting hard in the overstuffed chair that matched the one I had destroyed outside. “... hard to explain,” he finished, and sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Well, get to it, we’re not going anywhere,” said Ron, kicking his feet up on the table. His jaw was set, the freckles on his nose standing out. 

“Ha, I guess you have me there,” Remus said, and took a long slug of his cocoa, hissing air over his tongue from the heat.

“Well?” Hermione said tartly, and Remus flinched.

“Ok, the truth is... we don’t... exactly... know what is happening to you.”

I could imagine Snape’s bark of laughter in my head.

“ _What?_ ” I said, and Brae squawked above me, holding on to the blankets as I sat forward, glaring at Remus. “You said-”

“I _said_ you were stuck with me until we figured it out, and I have a theory, but you three are missing some vital information, and I need to ask you some questions nobody has been willing to ask.” Remus held up a placating hand, fingers spread.

The anger had warmed my belly better than the cocoa, but I drained the mug and thumped it onto the table. “Fine” I huffed, leaning back into my blankets. “Start asking them.”

Hermione’s fingers stroked my ribs. Ron’s shoulder bumped mine as he recrossed his legs, thumping his heels noisily on the table.

Remus stared at us, and we at him, and the corner of his mouth twitched up into a smile after a few seconds. “Snape must have been mad to take on the three of you at once.”

Hermione’s hand jerked so hard against my side her nails gouged lines of pain into my skin. Ron stiffened like he’d been shocked, but his face didn’t change. I took a slow breath but didn’t look away, slipping one hand over hers under the blankets and pulling my other out to slide it behind Ron’s shoulder so he could rest his head against my bicep. His hair smelled burnt.

“You’re the first one with the balls to say his name to us, you know,” Hermione said, and Remus dropped his hand, his face both sad and determined.

“I’m not surprised. His name is almost as unused as Voldemort’s.” Remus sat back in his chair, tucking one foot under him. Three long scars wrapped around his foot, slicing across the arch and disappearing around it. Their edges were red, raised. 

“Why? I mean, he can’t have fucked everybody, right?” Ron waved a hand, and I snorted.

“That could be said of Malfoy, metaphorically, I think,” said Remus, “No, Severus has crossed a line that most aren’t even aware of, and those that know are horrified beyond their good sense.”

My brows knit, and I glanced at Hermione, who shrugged. Ron shook his head when I shot him a look.

Remus was watching us carefully, and when none of us came up with anything, he shook his head, looking baffled.

“I don’t know how he managed to do it, but apparently entirely without your knowledge, Snape trained you all in a system of magic so forbidden that it doesn’t even have a name anymore.”

“ _What_?” all three of us said.

Somewhere in my head, Snape was laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's going to shank Remus with a teaspoon if he doesn't actually tell them something. What do you think they should name Harry's nose-crab?
> 
> Short chapter, I know. More soon. <3


	8. Chapter 8

The crab had built a tiny house of pebbles in the jam jar. I stared at it, my chin propped on my hands, as it swam back and forth, putting its abbreviated world in order. Behind me, Hermione was arguing with Remus about the nature of magic. 

Still.

It had been going on for more than an hour. I hadn’t lasted more than ten minutes, as they quickly got beyond my theoretical knowledge. Ron had a huge book open on his lap, and was squinting at it, looking up something to make a point of his own. Brae was curled up asleep in the discarded cocoon of blankets puddled on the ground, snoring his little whistle-sighs.

“So you maintain that there can be a magical system without spells, names, rituals or books? I don’t see how that’s a  _ system _ , Remus!” Hermione sounded about ready to pull her hair out. They had spelled one wall into a chalkboard and had a bunch of stuff drawn on it, but I didn’t understand any of it.

Remus sighed, and stood up, going back to pacing.

“Fine, I concede, maybe calling it a system is oversimplifying it. Or, really,  _ complicating _ it. But-”

“How can it be both? You’re not making any sense. How can something be learned if it’s not-” and they were off, talking over each other.

My head hurt. 

“Hey,” I said quietly, and they stopped, looked at me. I leaned back on the kitchen counter, crossing my arms, waiting for the spout of words to dry up in Hermione’s mouth. She raised her eyebrows, waiting for me to speak, her next point boiling on her tongue. I shook my head, and she frowned at me, nose wrinkled and teeth clenched.

:: Stop it, :: I signed at her, and she threw her hands up, choking down her argument with difficulty and stalking over to take over Remus’s overstuffed armchair.

“Fine. Fine, there’s no FUCKING rules and it doesn’t matter anymore,” her nose was red, and she looked out the window, sniffling a little. She put her feet up on the arm of the chair, and Remus threw himself onto the couch next to Ron, who still had his finger holding his place in the book, patiently waiting.

He flicked his fingers, asking if he could speak.

_ “I haven’t taken your voice,” _ said Snape’s voice in my head, and my lips twisted, giving Snape’s finger wave that meant, roughly, “yes you may,” though Ron had told me he privately dubbed it “sure, why not?”. Ron narrowed his eyes at me and then stuck his tongue out, opening the book to where his finger was and dropping it on Remus’s lap.

“Let’s back way up,” he said, and Remus nodded, wincing and adjusting his bruised dignity under the book. “You said it didn’t have a name ‘anymore’. So, what did it used to be called?”

Remus’s pinched face slowly relaxed into a wry smile. “I guess you were paying attention in class, hm?”

Ron waggled an eyebrow at him, “I passed, didn’t I?”

“Yes, yes you did. All of you did, in fact, and I’m explaining this all wrong.” Remus shook his head, and Ron tapped hard on the book, making him look back. All the mirth had gone from Ron’s face, and he locked eyes with Remus, who froze, his smile slowly dying as Ron continued.

“You haven’t explained much of anything, actually. I followed you and Hermione for about half of it, but as much as I love a good debate, you were talking in circles. You’re still  _ stalling _ ,” Ron was staring Remus down, not looking away. 

Hermione sniffed, rubbed her nose with the back of her hand, and spoke to the chalkboard full of diagrams instead of Remus. “Putting us off every time we ask a real question.” 

“Are you afraid of us, or of what you have to tell us?” I said, and Remus pulled his gaze away from Ron to look at me, his face anguished.

“Oh, Harry, no, I’m not afraid of you, of  _ any _ of you, of course not.”

I walked over and sat on the low table between the couches. I bumped Hermione’s knee with mine, and she uncurled, her jaw still set in a tight line. Remus was trapped between the three of us, the only place he could go now was over the back of the couch.

“No more games. No more distractions. Tell us.” My voice was hard.

Remus took a deep breath, opened his mouth, and then shut it again. He looked younger, suddenly, despite the lattice of scars, the gray creeping into his hair. 

“Let me get you started,” Ron said, gently, and tapped the open page on Remus’s lap. “Just read that out loud, to begin with.”

Remus shut his eyes. This close, I could see the pulse in his throat hammering away under the pale skin. He smelled like salt water and pine sap, like jam and trifle and ozone. I had a sudden desire to lean forward and taste his neck. My teeth itched with the urge to bite. I swallowed the feeling back, but it settled in my belly, smoldering.

“I-” Remus started, and I saw Hermione’s hand come up, rubbing across his back. He flinched, and I saw the moment when he gave in, when he stopped fighting. His shoulders sagged, his head dropped forward. He took a deep breath, and the itchy feeling in my teeth faded into a staticky hum.

A pulse of victory, of  _ triumph _ , shot straight into the pool of heat in my belly, the spark of guilt only adding to the flame. Hermione shot me a glance, and I saw that her cheeks were pink. 

Remus pulled his legs up and sat cross-legged on the couch, the book on his lap. He took a steadying breath and then read out the paragraph Ron had indicated, his voice almost too quiet to hear.

“‘On this day, Thursday the 22nd of April, 1585, the Wizen has passed judgment on those accused of practicing Magic Most Foul. For plying that craft whose very name offends the righteous, whose teaching has been banned in every civilized society, each shall be stripped of their wand, their lands, their titles, and be banished from the British isles for as long as they shall live. Their memories will be taken, their crimes unrecorded, their names forgotten. And may God have mercy on our souls’. - The first, and last, wizarding trial for an adult knowingly using The Sensitivities.”

The name seemed to echo in the silence of the cabin. 

“I’m right, aren’t I? That’s what they used to call it, whatever Snape taught us.”

“Yes, that’s what they called it.”

Remus closed the book, turning it over and squinting at the spine. “‘Mortification and Disgrace Throughout History,’ How the bloody hell did you even find this?” he said to Ron. 

“Mum had a copy, used to make us read it out loud whenever she caught us doing something illegal. I’ve read it through a couple of times. That particular entry is ripped out of our copy, so when I saw the book I in the library at school I decided to look it up. That bit about ‘whose name offends the righteous’ pinged my memory.”

Remus was shaking his head. “You have a remarkable ability to puzzle things out, you know. I didn’t even know I had that book, let alone that it was mentioned therein.”

Ron blinked, and then grinned hard enough that his freckles stood out on his nose. “Thank you.”

“That doesn’t tell me anything. What kind of magic is so much worse than an Unforgivable that it doesn’t even have a name?” I said, not willing to let him squirm out of it, now that we had cornered him. I crossed my arms across my chest, waiting. 

_ // Can’t let him get away now. Make him say it.// _

Remus looked down at his hands, and then up at me. The scars across his cheeks were red. He looked like he was contemplating the dive over the back of the couch.

“Say it, Remus,” I said, my voice the growl of the waves raking the rocks outside. I leaned forward, waiting to hear it from his lips.

“Sᓍᑘᒪ ᘻᗩᘜᓰᑢ. The Sensitivities are Sᓍᑘᒪ ᘻᗩᘜᓰᑢ,” His voice was so quiet I almost didn’t hear him. The words had a weird flat tone to them, like the air didn’t even like them.

I sat back like he slapped me, dropping my crossed arms. “Huh? I thought...” and now it was my turn to flush, feeling like a pervert. Remus looked up, a little smile coming back to his lips.

“You expected me to say sex magic.”

“Well... yes.” 

Ron’s eyes were wide, his face drained of all color. Remus patted his knee, and he jerked. “Are you sure it’s not just sex magic?” he said, his voice going tight. 

“Sorry lad, quite sure.”

Hermione was frowning. “Remus, I’m afraid I’m still in the dark here. I’ve never seen anything mentioned about Sᓍᑘᒪ ᘻᗩᘜᓰᑢ - Oh!” The words left her lips and didn’t get very far, withering and dying midair. “I see,” she said.

Remus was nodding, even as Ron was rubbing his hands over his face, clearly more up on magical taboos than I was. 

“I’m not surprised.” Remus said, “There have been several purges in wizarding history, some by Muggles, some from within. But every culture that has a formalized magical system has rejected the Sensitivities.”

“And the reason the words are hard to hear?” she said.

“The remnants of a spell lost to time. We aren’t even sure how they accomplished that one. It’s even harder to write down.”

“Wait, Ron said, ‘not _just_ sex magic.’ So it _is_ sex magic?” I said, less concerned with what some ancient wizards called it. “How come I made fake waves hit the porch? I was asleep!”

The three of them stopped, and their heads swiveled to me. “Harry,” Ron said, “The water didn’t come from the ocean. Do you not remember what happened?”

“I just said I was asleep,” I snapped.

“The waves came  _ out _ of you,” said Hermione, and I blinked at her.

_ // his hand, hot around my throat, the cold seawater rushing into my open mouth // _

I flushed, clenching my hands on the table. “So then, why the bucket of water...?”

“You sort of... caught fire while the ocean was coming out,” Ron said, using his hands to demonstrate my apparent fountaining and combustion.

“And then I sneezed a crab.”

“And then you sneezed a live crab,” Remus corrected. “That’s the important bit.”

“Why? And Snape didn’t teach us to do anything having to do with apparating oceans or catching fire or singeing people’s eyebrows off for sneaking up on me. All he taught me was how to be a whore!”

My fingers hurt from my grip on the table. I felt like if I let go, I’d fly apart into chunks. 

Ron reached out and yanked me into his arms, and I fought for a second until he slid his hand into my hair and gave it a little tug. “Calm down, eh,” he said into my shoulder. “We’re here; we got away. We just gotta figure this out.”

I shut my eyes, leaning on him for a long minute, trying to get the feeling of wet sheets and cold skin out of my brain. His hand in my hair felt nice, warm and real. 

After what felt like a long time, I pulled away, wiping my wet face with the hem of my shirt. Remus had commandeered his chair again and was sprawled in it, carving a piece of stone with a small knife. Hermione had three books open on the table and had twisted her hair up into a knot with a pencil. She had another behind her ear and a third between her teeth.

“What’d you find?” I said, and we all pretended my voice wasn’t hoarse and terrible.

She looked up and shook her head, looking annoyed. “Even knowing what it used to be called doesn’t help too much. There’s almost no record of it, at least in these books.”

“And these are the ones I’ve collected over the years that mention it at all. Half of those books would get me a hefty fine, or worse,” Remus said, gesturing with his little knife. Stone flakes dusted his shirt like crumbs. “Some of the books in here would get me clapped in silver chains and thrown in Azkaban.”

I curled up next to Ron, feeling a little bit better, having at least said it out loud. I rubbed my fingers over the tattoo on my neck absently. I could tell exactly where it started, even though the skin felt the same to my fingertips.

“Why do you even have these books, if it’s so forbidden?” I said, and Hermione clucked her tongue at me, shaking her head without looking up from her book.

“Honestly, you are thick. Clearly, he’s a user of the Sensitivities, aren’t you, Remus?”

We all looked over at him, and he looked back, his eyebrows up. “Ah.” He dusted his shirt off, and then stood up, clapping his hands together, like he was bracing himself.

“Explaining magic that specifically defies explanation is... stupid. My bad,” he said and cracked his knuckles. He cleaned the little knife off with his shirt and then held his arm out, the knife held flat just above the skin of his forearm.

“The reason this type of magic is forbidden,” Remus said, his voice dropping an octave, “is because people fear what they can’t control.” He pressed the flat of the silver knife to his arm, and the skin blistered and split. Remus jerked at the initial pain, but sucked in a long breath through his grit teeth. His voice was rough when he spoke again. “And Sᓍᑘᒪ ᘻᗩᘜᓰᑢ is the opposite of control.”

My teeth itched for a heartbeat, but the vibration rose and rose into a subvocal whine as Remus picked up the knife and set it down again, next to the welt rising on his skin. Brae popped up out of his blankets and was watching with interest.

Remus shut his eyes as he pulled the knife away and set it on the table, careful not to touch the blade with his fingers. His chest rose and fell as he breathed in a few times, opening and closing the hand on his hurt arm, rotating his wrist.

The fact that Remus had so casually hurt himself made me feel weird. Sweat prickled in my armpits. I saw a tremble work its way up his spine, saw the blood rush that came with it. The subvocal whine suddenly cut off, the silence unbelievably loud, and Remus opened too-bright eyes. He held his shaking fist over the little stone ram, and then opened his hand as if he was dropping something he couldn’t bear to hold anymore.

The air THOOMED, the not-noise sucked toward the table with a hollow crack.

Remus fell backward into his chair like he’d been shot, out cold. On the table, the little stone ram shook his tiny stone head, looked up at me, and said “BaaaHHHHH” in a sandy little voice before he started to run around, his stone hooves leaving small divots in the wood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, while writing this chapter, I may have accidentally started a prequel from Snape's Pov.
> 
> ... whoops.
> 
> Comments make my day, and make me write faster. :D


	9. Chapter 9

_London, 1984_

The air on the street was cold and sweet compared to the stale air of the Underground, and I took a deep breath of it as I emerged into the London evening. Muggles flowed around me irately as I stopped to get my bearings in a pool of yellow light, and I lifted my lip in a sneer at one who slammed into my shoulder.

“Move it, git,” snapped the punk, the metal in his face flashing in the streetlamp. He was all new leather and ripped jeans, the egg-white in his spikes still damp enough that I could smell it.

“Make me, cocksucker,” I spat, and the first fight of the night was on.

The punk threw a wide punch, giving me time to back down, but backing down was not the reason I had trekked halfway across the damn country. I easily ducked his arm and stepped into him, my fist thudding square into his ribs. Pain bloomed in my hand, and we both grunted into the night.

The surge of energy up my arm coated every nerve in glittering fire, and I exhaled hard, the plume of my breath a swirl of blue and green ribbons that I was almost positive only I could see. I stumbled, the first hit always coming on the hardest, and the punk caught the front of my jacket, his fingers clenching and yanking me upright again. His heat pressed into me through the thin layers of leather and denim between us, rage and pain and humiliation leaking out of him and into me, and I soaked it in like rain on dry ground. 

He held me still enough while he rabbit-punched my side a few times, each strike an explosion of sensation ratcheting up the next. It was like coming, like a gasp of air after nearly drowning, like escaping the claws of a beast, except it didn’t stop, just kept going, the reverberation rattling through my bones. 

A drunk grin split my face, and it was, as usual, altogether unpleasant by the way that the Muggle flinched and pulled his fist back to smash it off my teeth.

My cock throbbed against the seam of his thigh, and the punk snarled, pushing me away. I reeled backward, holding on to the streetlamp as my legs threatened to give out. 

I heard the  _ snickt _ and yanked my head up, trying and failing to feel something more appropriate than anticipation as the punk spun a well-worn blade and gripped it tight. The stream of Muggles around us gave us more room but didn’t actually stop. The light had gone crystalline, the highlight on the blade leaving iridescent tracers.

“Askin’ for more than a beating, yard boy,” he said, his voice soft and sharp. 

I tried to gather myself, to pull my spine up and get at the very least stand on my own two feet, but the potent waves of anger and my own adrenalin sloshed over me, and all I could do was hold tight to the grimy black metal of the light and brace myself for the first cut.

“Oi! Severus, there you are!”

The punk’s knife flashed out of existence as a shadow broke from the river of humanity around us. I glanced to my side, and the punk melted away into the night as soon as I broke eye contact. With his fire receding into the darkness, the heat started to cool, the light losing its rainbow edges. I pulled myself upright, still riding the high but getting a handle on it.

I turned and blinked in fuzzy recognition as a familiar face bent close to mine and pulled my arm over his shoulders, just as you would do for a drunk chum.

This man was not my friend.

The werewolf was wearing a ripped shirt and jeans, black boots. He had new scars since I had seen him last, his face thinner and older. 

This close, I could feel him, the shape and pull of his energy, the skittering spark as our coronas touched. He was silvery moonlight and the metallic taste of blood and iron, the rake of sharp claws, and the feeling of dirt under your bare feet. I couldn’t help the shivery little moan that rattled my throat, but it didn’t escape my lips.

“... Lupin?” I managed.

“Hush, Severus,” he said mildly, and I felt my voice shiver and  _ obey _ .

The fear I didn’t have of the switchblade roared back to life, and I looked into his eyes without meaning to, rendered shocked and speechless by his command.

I expected to see mockery, or triumph, or perhaps even pity, but the grey eyes burned with entirely another emotion. I yanked my gaze away, panting like I had taken a gulp of rotgut whiskey. The buzzing between us was kicking ripples up my spine. 

Lupin started walking, and I had little choice but to go along. His hand against my bruised ribs sent blurry little splotches of pleasure through me with every step. He got us away from that damned lamppost and quickly ducked us down a side street, and another, the buildings running together.

The alley he pushed me into seemed like any other, reeking of garbage and wet with puddles of something that was probably not rainwater. But he pressed his hand to a brick, and it parted for him, like a flap in the brick wall.

Sound rolled out, and smoke thick with cannabis and sweat, anise and burnt sugar. I looked around but all I could see was strobing lights and writhing bodies, dancing to the heavy beat thumping from the speakers sprouting from every vertical surface like fungus.

Lupin’s grip on my arm kept me grounded in the maelstrom, as the combined energy of everyone in the room hit my already tenuous grip on sobriety. I went from being slightly fucked up to nearly insensate in a few thudding heartbeats.

This time the moan did escape, not that I could hear it above the music. But his arm around my ribs tightened, and I clung to him and hated myself for it. He steered us around deftly, ducking us through a beaded curtain and down a short flight of stairs, which I navigated about as well as one would expect me to do in the dark and high half out of my mind.

I fetched up against him like a wave on a rock, as he paused to rap his knuckles on a door. I rolled my wet forehead against the back of his tank, feeling his shoulder blades slide under his skin. A window slid open in the door, and a gruff voice demanded a password.

I had no idea, but Remus Fucking Lupin apparently  _ did _ because he slapped the door and cussed the man out in Welsh through the little window. The doorman barked a laugh in a considerably higher pitch and let us in.

The room was warmer than the club, and as soon as the door closed the grinding thump of the music dimmed to something more like a heartbeat. 

More than that, though, as soon as the door shut behind my stumbling footsteps the entire presence of the club upstairs blinked out of existence, as far as I was concerned. I moaned, cut off from the sparkling strands of the dancer’s lust and joy, cold and numb and vibrating pins and needles.

I doubled over, holding my stomach, though the ache went deeper than that, down to the bone. I collapsed against the werewolf's back, sliding to the floor as he stepped away. I curled into a ball, not prepared in the slightest to be severed from the source of all that warmth.

Or, at least, most of it. Even with my face pressed against the unnaturally comfortable floor, I could tell that Lupin had stopped a few feet away from me. I could tell there were at least two other people in the room, and that they had the extra-glittery feeling of magic users. I managed to roll onto my side, breathing deeply, fighting for control.

I cracked my watering eyes open to see a pair of blurry shapes topped with a shock of white-blonde hair approaching. For one god-awful moment, I thought it was Lucius and Narcissa, but the smaller of the two suddenly leaned in, and I was flooded with her neon pink sparkle as she pushed my hair off my face. 

Narcissa Malfoy was many things, and neon pink sparkle was none of them.

“My god, Remus, is that Snape?” said the other blond. His eyes were lined in black, making his tawny irises stand out even more, and I sagged back in relief. It wasn’t them. The girl giggled and sat down cross-legged next to my head, petting her hand a few inches above my hair.

I could still feel it, rippling along the edges of my senses, cotton candy and spun glass, sweet and sharp. I tried not to purr, it was undignified, but she felt so  _ good _ , if just out of reach, like being banned from a candy shop.

“Yeah. Found him under a streetlight, about to get stuck fulla holes,” Remus said, and the other blond dropped to his knees on the padded ground and knee-walked over to me, his warm-bread-and-honey feel wrapping around the pink-sugar of the girl. I felt as if I had been caught jacking off in a bakery.

He touched a finger to my cheek, and it felt like fire. A moan escaped through my grit teeth, or it would have if my voice was working. 

Which it wasn’t.

“He’s ripe,” he said, dragging his fingertip down my jaw. I shivered the sensation on just the right side of painful. My head felt hot and tight.

“I  _ know _ , Xen” Remus said, from the other side of the room. “I couldn’t leave him out there like that.”

“Maybe he’s who our little sniffers have been talking about,” said the woman, twisting sinuously around Xen’s torso, her breasts under her thin white dress close enough that I could see the blush of her areolas. She caught my wandering eye and trilled another laugh. She had matching eyeliner.

“Jeepers-creepers, you don’t don’t have to peek-a-boo,” she said and pulled the dress off over her head, her tits bouncing free. She leaned back against Xen, wrapping her arms around his neck, arching back, displaying herself. Xen smiled down at her indulgently, clearly besotted. He dipped his head and she lifted her lips to his, kissing only as long-time lovers did. The love that pulsed between them was pure and brilliant and burned like acid on flayed skin. 

I felt the blood in my body rush to my face and cock simultaneously, and I shut my streaming eyes, trying to block them out, my pulse thundering, flinching away. The pressure in my head was building, and it felt like my ears were going to pop.

Their sweetness and light moved back, fading in intensity, and I felt the werewolf again, familiar, and I  _ reached _ for him, my hand shaking.

“Severus,  _ no,” _ he said firmly, and I felt the rebuke to my bones. I yanked my hand back like I had been burned. My brain felt like it was being wrung for juice. I dug my fingernails into my palms, rolled my face to the wall, my pulse and my treacherous cock still hard. I was trembling, my teeth grinding. I wanted this night to be over, to have never come at all. What horrible sense of humor the fates had, to have placed him in that particular crowd on this particular night.

“You can’t leave him like that,” said a new voice, and I couldn’t  _ feel _ them, not at all, and I wondered what kind of painting would be hung in a place like this.

“I... he hates me, it wouldn’t be...” 

“Remus.” The voice was firm, and closer, and I still couldn’t feel them, which I really, really,  _ really _ wanted to care about, but the air was going thick, and it was getting hard to breathe. “The Lovegood’s can’t do it, you saw how he reacted to their Sensus.”

“Can’t you-”

Whomever it was gave a great cawing cackle, and I felt... something walk toward us, their footfalls silent but somehow louder than everything else in the room.

There was a sibilant hiss, and a ruffle of what sounded like feathers. A flickering tongue of plasma brushed the shell of my ear, and I gasped, the static crackle of electricity ripping across my brain and out the other ear.

“In his present state, I’d destroy him,” the voice said, pleasantly, “Take the edge off, then we can ask him where he learned to suck souls.”

.... suck souls? I gulped air, wheezing a little. My heartbeat was out of control.

“What should I do with it?”

Whatever terrifying thing it was moved away, back to wherever it had come from. I heard a couch creak and someone going through glass bottles. “We’re out of Absinthe. Make me a new case, I’ll stripe your ass for each bottle I deem undrinkable, or that fades before I drink it.”

Lupin sighed, and I felt him slide down the wall next to my head, legs sprawled. He dropped his hand on my face like it was a rag, not moving, just leaving it there. I felt him take a breath, and my teeth itched like my tongue had become electric velcro. 

I couldn’t breathe for one long second, and then the terrible pressure rushed out of me all at once, licking every nerve on the way out, my body spasming hard. I came in my pants like an adolescent, my cock trapped against my leg.

Next to me, Lupin gasped and jerked like he’d been hit, his foot kicking a couple of times. I smelled the sharp scent of seed and realized I hadn’t come alone.

The trembling slowed, stopped, the thick air going back to normal. I panted, exhausted and wet, and entirely unsure what had just happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :: peeks through fingers, waits for reactions::
> 
> Taking bets on who (or what) the new mystery person is. I'll actually give you a prize if you puzzle it out.
> 
> So far, we've got:
> 
> (1) Incubus (guessed by SuccubusKayko)  
> (2) Dementor/human hybrid (guessed by Jeda Lawson)  
> (3) Tom Riddle (guessed by KinkyLittleWolf)  
> (4) Crow Creature of some kind (guessed by Wanda_May22)  
> 


	10. Chapter 10

I sat up straight in bed, sweat plastering my hair to my face, panting. It was dark, but the false moonlight coming in the window told me it was still early. 

My pants were wet, stuck to my softening cock. My hands ached, half cramped. 

What in the actual fuck was that? I rubbed my hands over my face, pushed my hair back, tried to get my breath back to normal. That dream didn’t feel... right, somehow. I could remember it clearly, for one thing, something that thankfully didn’t happen very often.

I frowned out at the meadow outside my window, watching one of the many rabbits that dotted the meadow at night, unbothered by anything in the dark woods. I rubbed at my hands, stretching them absently in the patterns I had learned when I had first started using the coraxis sign language.

I pulled my knees up to my chest, rested my forehead on them, waiting for the dream to fade, but the whole thing was there in my head, over and over. I could see the gleam of the muggle’s knife, taste the sweat on Snape’s lips. If pressed, I was sure I could write out every word Remus had said, in the dream.

My cock twitched, remembering the look in Remus’s eye as he stared Snape down, the feel of his skin, the smell of his hand on my... no, _Snape’s_ , face. 

Since when did I dream of _being_ him _?_

I rubbed my hands over my face and got up to change into dry clothes, poking the little jar of firelight on the nightstand until it woke up and cast some light so I could see. The little gargoyle necklace caught in my shirt as I was pulling it over my head, and it took me a moment to untangle myself. When I yanked it free, I was surprised to see Brae standing in the doorway, holding a book and a piece of paper, a small gray notebook clamped under his arm. Everything was blurry without my glasses.

He tipped his head at me, narrowed his eyes, and then flicked his fingers, their blue highlights glinting in the dim light. 

::... Godfather?:: 

I frowned at him. :: Who else? Not like we get visitors, here. ::

In less than a second, the book and paper and notebook were gone, pushed into pockets I didn’t think Brae had in his little tunic. He gaped his beak in a smile and slid into the room, making his way over to the pile of blankets he preferred to a bed and un-subtly stuffing something under his pillow.

He was hiding something, and somehow, the thought that even _he_ was keeping things from me was the spark that set me off. The rage felt pure and real and _me_ and I was down the hallway before I knew my own plan, Brae a few feet behind me. I banged the door of Remus’s room open without a knock, slamming it closed so close to Brae’s beak that it cut his squawk in half.

Remus wasn’t asleep, because of course, he wasn’t. 

He did look gratifyingly surprised that I was standing in his room, shirtless, my fists clenched with anger. He was sitting in bed, reading. He blinked at me for a long moment, before raising his hand and slowly setting his book down on his nightstand.

“You look right pissed,” he said, finally. “Are you here to talk to me, or hit me?”

His matter of fact tone took some of the heat out of me, and my shoulders dropped. I tried to speak and found my tongue thick and useless. I grunted and spat into the divot on the gargoyle’s head.

“I don’t want to hit you. I’m... I’m just so tired of being confused,” I said, and he nodded. 

“Can’t say I blame you for that.”

“No, I blame _you_. You know things you aren’t telling us. Telling _me.”_

He looked down at his lap, the light from his lamp making his scars dark shadows on his face. The burns from the silver knife were nothing but faint pink marks on his forearm. 

“Harry, I... You’ve gone through a lot. I’m trying my best to not... make things worse.” He sounded miserable.

I stalked closer to his bed. “Worse than thinking I’m going crazy, or everyone treating me like a timebomb? Or some kind of terrifying monster, about to turn on everyone?”

Remus glanced at me sideways, his lips twisted. “I wouldn't know anything about that.” His brow furrowed and he sniffed the air, and he glanced at me again. All of a sudden I remembered the come wetting my pants to my skin.

Just as the anger started to dissolve into shame, I saw Remus’s cheeks go pink, and he shifted in bed, casually draping a hand over his lap.

The smell had made him hard.

The dream came back, the feeling of Remus’s hand on Snape’s skin, the smell of his hair, the wrenching pull of his magic yanking the orgasm out of me. Shame became lust, almost instantly.

“Remus,” I said, my voice low and rough, even though the gargoyle. He looked up at me, eyes hot. I took a step closer to the bed, and he held out his hand, fingers spread.

“Stop,” he said, “I can _feel_ you, and I only have so much willpower, for the love of God.”

I paused. “Stop because you don’t want me, or stop because of something else?”

“Stop because I won’t _use_ you like that.”

I crawled onto his bed on my hands and knees, advancing on him, the anger and confusion and uncertainty evaporating. _This_ , I knew. This, I _understood_. He could have run, I told myself. Could have said no. But I needed this, needed something real and of my choosing.

And I needed my damn brain to shut up, for just a few minutes.

I stopped an inch from his face, close enough that I could see him clearly even in this dim light. I could smell the pine-and-ozone scent of his skin, the sweat in his hairline. I could practically _taste_ him. 

“What if I _want_ you to use me, Remus?” I said softly, dropping my head and looking up at him through my eyelashes. “What if I ask you to?” 

He was breathing hard, his hands clenched in his blankets. “You don’t know what you’re asking,” he said, almost desperately. I leaned in, nuzzling his neck, and he moaned, somewhere deep in his throat.

“I know exactly what I’m asking.” I slid my mouth up his neck, murmuring into his ear as my fingers started flicking open the buttons on the ridiculous nightshirt he was wearing. “I’m asking you to hold me down, fuck me open, and _use me_ until I can’t think for a while. _Please_ , Remus.”

Remus groaned and gave in, winding his fingers into my hair and pulling tight, yanking my mouth to his. I sucked at his tongue, pushing his nightshirt open, digging my fingers into his back, holding on tight in case he changed his mind. My eyes closed, sighing in relief he took control.

He slid a hand down, cupping the back of my neck, his thumb brushing behind my ear. His other hand traced down my back, his touch gentle. I arched, wanting the quicksilver rush of pain, but his fingernails stayed frustratingly out of reach. I pulled my head back with a gasp as his fingers skirted the tattoo on my lower back.

He tucked my hair behind my ear and rolled me onto my back, stretching out on his side next to me and propping his head on his hand. His chest was crossed with scars, including a set of vicious slashes over his heart. He saw me looking, and hummed, laying his fingers in the marks. 

They lined up perfectly. 

“The wolf ...” he said and I shook my head, grabbing his hand and setting his nails on my chest, just over the point of the collar. I looked up at him, my face hot, and curled his hand into a claw, pressing his nails into my skin.

“Please,” I said.

He swallowed hard, his eyes hungry and reluctant. “I... I don’t... _need_ -”

“ _Please_ ,” I whispered, and he raked his nails down my chest, leaving long pink lines across the black tracery of the feather tattoo, his eyes never leaving my face. My cock, already hard, jerked in my pants, and I arched, whining, my nerves vibrating in the wake of his touch like guitar strings.

Remus _growled_ , and I went boneless, head lolling, my hands open and empty. 

“Harry,” he said, his voice hoarse, “this isn’t... wise.” His hand on my stomach flexed and relaxed, over and over, the tips digging into soft, vulnerable flesh. The edge of danger made it better, made it _glorious._ “You’re... You’re so full, I can hardly touch you without...” 

His eyes slid shut, and for a moment he seemed to be larger than he was, the moonlight behind him through the window catching in the whorls of his hair, the lines of his scars. I felt the rumble of that growl, still echoing through his ribcage.

“Without what?” I said, dragging the tips of my fingers across his abdomen, feeling him shaking with restraint.

 _//That won’t do. //_ Snape’s voice said somewhere deep in my head.

I clawed my nails across his stomach before I knew what I was doing, and my eyes went wide as the snarl that tore out of his throat had a lot more animal in it than man.

His hands slammed into the bed on either side of my head and clenched hard, the sheet ripping under his fingertips, his face suddenly only inches from mine. His teeth were bared, stark white in the light from the window. His body pressed mine into the bed, hips twitching sideways like he couldn’t quite hold still, his cock an iron bar gouging into my side. It felt huge, but he seemed enormous _everywhere_ , crouched over me, a force of nature trapped in a man’s skin.

Spit from his curled lips drooled on my face, his breath hot and wild. His skin crackled with energy where we touched, popping and snapping against my sweat-damp skin. I was frozen, unable to do anything.

“Without losing control,” he said through grit teeth. His eyes gleamed like copper coins, his jaw clenched so hard I could see the muscle tick. 

“I can take it,” I said, grinding up on him. “I want it.” I reached a hand toward his face, stopping only when I saw faint blue sparks running over the back of my hand.

After a few tense seconds, Remus shook from head to toe and pulled in a gasping breath, the wildness retreating under his skin, taking some of the buzzing, crackling energy with it. The sparks faded from my skin. He yanked his hand from the ruin of his bedding and grabbed my wrist, forcing it over my head. “You are a _menace._ ”

_// Indeed. //_

He snagged my other wrist, pressing to the pillow. As soon as he dropped his hands, I reached for him again. He grunted, catching my hands again and pushing them down. “Leave them there,” he said sternly.

“If I don’t, will you tie me down?” I asked, trying for insolence, but it just came across as eager.

He stared hard into my eyes, and shook his head, slowly. “No. I’ll just stop.”

_// Ha, thought so. //_

My stomach dropped, and I whimpered. Fear prickled at my armpits. He lifted his hands from my wrists, and I kept them above my head.

His smile was both devilish and pleased. “Good boy.”

The surge of lust that rolled through me at his praise made every nerve in my body go hot and tight. My pulse thundered in my ears, my nipples achingly hard. My hips jutted up into his, mindlessly rutting into the heat of his body.

But I didn’t move my wrists.

Remus threw back his head and groaned like I had just swallowed his cock to the root, and my mouth watered, wanting to taste him. My skin was too hot, sweat pouring out of me. I swore I could see steam rising from my chest.

Remus managed to get a few words out, between gulping air like he’d be running. “Oh, oh dear. That was... bracing. You’re so... so much more than I could have hoped. We are going to have to slow down a bit, I think.”

I whined, shaking my head. I was so close already, and he had been inches from ravishing me. “No, please, please, I’m sorry, sorry” I babbled, and he shushed me, sliding his fingers over my lips. I sucked them in, laving them with the ruin of my tongue. His fingers tasted like leather books and musk. 

He jerked, his cock pulsing against my stomach. I felt the spurt of precome hit my skin, and we both moaned as it fizzed between us. 

“Fucking hell...” he panted, resting his forehead on my bent arm. I hummed in agreement, moving restlessly beneath him. “Alright. Ok. Rules. Gotta set some ground rules.”

I made a face around the warm thrust of his fingers.

“You want to play with me, you play by my rules, yeah?” His voice had dropped a bit, his accent thicker. He flexed his fingers against my tongue, making me look at him. 

I nodded my head, using the motion to suck his fingers further into my mouth, riding my tongue the length of his finger like it was the fat vein on the bottom of his cock, holding his eyes the whole time. He watched me like a mouse watches a snake before it strikes, well aware of what is happening but unable to get away. I shoved forward another inch, my gag reflex long mastered, spit leaking from my lips to wet my chin. The very tips of his fingers slid into the softness of my throat, my breath stuttering. My brain was humming, the edges I had been cutting myself on for days smoothing out.

He shut his eyes, shuddering, his stomach tightening against mine. “Artemis _wept_ ,” he said, and shifted his hips so our cocks lined up, separated only by the thin wet barrier of my pants.

It wasn’t until the full length of him was pressed to me that I realized that Remus really was quite a bit bigger than me. Like, _intimidatingly_ large, long enough to reach past my navel, thick enough that I could feel him on both sides of my cock as he ground down. My eyes flew open, and I looked at him in shock, my buzzing brain startled into flatline.

_// Not so confident now, are you, boy?//_

Snape’s voice in my head was laughing, the soft, evil laugh he only used right before he did something to you that you really, really didn’t think you wanted.

Remus’s eyes still held an edge of copper, the thick weight of his cock pressing into me like a promise. I whimpered around his fingers, and he pulled them from my slack jaw with an obscene slurp, trailing them down my neck, skipping the thick line of Snape’s collar but painting my own wetness over my collarbones, down to my chest. He didn’t touch my nipple, not quite, just lightly dragged his finger around it, the wetness evaporating as my skin tightened.

“Now then, ground rules,” he said, and his voice was dark and hot, his hand never stopping its travels. “Don’t taunt the Wolf. I mean it. Wounds from my nails do not heal well, Harry. If I bite you, if I break skin...”

“I wouldn't turn, don’t tell me that. I passed that class.” 

“No, but it’d leave a stain on you. How rare do you like your steak?” He lifted a brow, but his eyes were serious. “I mean it. I am not sure if I could... clean you of that.” His fingers got closer and closer to my nipple, and tried to focus on what he was saying, but it was hard.

I narrowed my eyes at him, but nodded. “Ok.”

“Good.” He dipped his head, his mouth suddenly enveloping my nipple, sucking hard for one blinding second before swirling his tongue around it expertly. 

I yelped, the pleasure so sharp and sudden it felt like pain shooting through me. His mouth was hotter than normal, almost too hot. He spent long moments on my nipple, sucking and licking at it until it felt electrified, every nerve jangling. I kept expecting to feel his teeth, and the anticipation built with every soft pass of his lips. I was whining, whimpering, making all kinds of undignified noises, my hips jerking. Just as I thought I was going to go completely mad, he pulled off with a little pop, observing the reddened skin with a look of satisfaction. 

He blew softly on the wet skin, the unnatural heat from his mouth cooling to what felt like ice in a moment or two. He hummed, happily, and then dipped to my other nipple, starting the process over.

“Fuck, Remus!” I grunted, helplessly twisting under him as he worked my chest over, back and forth, until my nipples felt as sensitive as the head of my cock. He pulled back, finally, his fingers brushing butterfly soft against the tips of my swollen nipples. It took me a few seconds to catch up with the fact that he had stopped, and I pulled open eyes I didn’t remember closing, feeling drunk.

“Oh, that’s a good look on you,” he said admiringly, reaching up a hand to cup my cheek, “How are you feeling?”

How was I feeling? I was floating, drifting, not thinking. I blinked at him for a moment, and couldn’t actually find any words. Instead, I nuzzled his hand and shifted my knees so that I could slide a leg over his hip and pull him toward where I wanted him so desperately.

He rocked that monster of a cock into the cradle of my hips, and I whimpered, my head tipping back, showing as much of my throat as I could. Remus made a hungry little noise and licked a long stripe up the line of my neck, sucking my earlobe between his lips to nibble at it gently, his hot breath gushing against my cheek.

“Oh, you have no idea how tempted I am to take you up on that offer, but I’m afraid neither of us is prepared for that tonight.”

I wailed, finding my voice finally, “No! Please, I want it, I need it, _please.”_ My arms twitched, wanting to reach for him, but didn’t I move my wrists from their place above my head.

“I said nothing of stopping,” Remus said, leaning back to look me in the face. “I just said I wouldn’t be taking you up on that very enticing offer to bury myself in your arse. Tonight, anyway.”

He slid his hand into my hair, cupping the back of my neck. His fingers clenched, holding me tight, directly touching my collar for the first time. Where his palm crossed the thick line I could feel a weird thrumming, and Remus paused, his eyes going a little distant.

_// Damn. //_

Remus’s face hardened, and he held me still, searching my eyes for... something. I wasn’t sure what, but I didn’t try to get away. A trickle of fear sprung up as Remus tipped my neck back, looking at the collar in the dim light. 

I saw his nose twitch, felt the jolt that went through him before he seemed to catch himself. 

_// Still, you pervy old wolf? You make this too easy. //_

All of a sudden, I was terrified, my heart hammering in my throat, my body going cold and then hot as adrenaline flooded my system. I felt my eyes go wide, gasping for air. The fear kept coming in waves, but it wasn’t _my_ fear, it wasn’t, and I desperately wanted to hide under Remus, or hide _from_ him, or _something_. I whimpered, writhing beneath him, feeling helpless and trapped. I could feel my heartbeat in my cock, straining against him.

Remus _moaned_ , long and low and filthy, and his hands tightened around my throat for a heartbeat before he yanked his hands away, panting. The copper was back in his eyes. “Is this you, or him?” he said, harshly, and I didn’t know what he was talking about, just knew in my bones that any second doom would befall me. Tears overflowed my eyes and spilled in fat tracks down my cheeks.

I opened my mouth to scream, but instead, I started begging, words I didn’t even understand pouring from my lips in a sobbing, gushing stream “Please, _Alpha_ , please, fuck me, _breed_ me, don’t eat me, fill me up, please, please- ” and something in Remus snapped. His head cocked, and he was absolutely still for a heartbeat. 

The next second he flipped me onto my stomach, one fist planted hard in the center of my back, the other clawing the back of my pants off of my body, pulling hard enough that my hips were hoisted off the bed before the fabric ripped with a snarl of parting cloth. Remus wedged a hand behind my knee and forced it up, so I was spread on the bed like a rock climber trapped on a cliff.

He was huffing, snuffling at the air, making whining noises, and it occurred to me that it didn’t really sound like.... Remus, anymore. The bolt of fear that went through me was all mine, this time, thick and terrified and I tensed, about to scramble away, only to find my body wouldn’t move on my command.

 _// You must never run from a predator, Modah, you know that.//_ Snape said in my head, and he pulled my other knee up and arched my back, making me present to the panting, snarling wolf trapped in the skin of the man.

“Oh god,” I said into the mattress, feeling Remus’s nails dragging down my spine, the edges catching on each bump. His warning earlier about wounds that would not heal replayed in my head, and I trembled, trying to hold still.

// _Shhh, you can take this, you’ve taken so much more than this,_ // purred Snape’s voice in my head, and I could feel his hands on me, pressing my wrists hard into the bed, holding the back of my neck. I wondered if this was what going insane felt like.

Remus suddenly licked a stripe up the back of my leg and over the swell of my ass, his fingers denting the soft flesh of my inner thighs. His teeth snapped, close enough to my skin that I could feel a spray of drool. He licked at the spot, and snapped again, and this time I felt the scratch of his stubble.

Snape took control, and I let him.

Across my back, the tattoo of the crow in flight tingled and burned, and Remus grunted, letting go of my thighs to slap his palm down across the mark.

I arched as he set off all the set spells at once, my ass fizzing itself clean and slicking, loosening, a tight band of magic crawling tight around my balls and wrapping my cock in invisible bonds. The lust that crackled out of my bones hit the fear lingering in my veins, and ignited into ultraviolet fire under my skin.

_// Atta boy. //_

Snape pulled my knees wider, tipped my hips, practically wagged my ass in Remus’s face, and the temptation proved too much. I felt his hands dig into the meat of my ass, pulling me open, his mouth blazingly hot as he buried his tongue as far into me as it could go, slurping obscenely. Hot drool slid down to cool on my balls, tight and trapped against their bonds.

I could feel his tongue farther inside me than possibly could have gone, stretching me open, an echo of Remus’s actual tongue, rolling against my prostate. I felt the ghost of Snape’s hand on my hip, guiding me, holding me still, not leaving me alone. 

I whined, keened, and Remus snarled against my skin in warning as I trembled, his tongue still buried in me. The vibration buzzed down his teeth, pressed into tender flesh, and I shook harder, precome dripping from my cock to the sheets in an almost continuous stream. 

// _I could let him fuck you tonight,_ // Snape said, his fingers-that-couldn’t-be-real curling around my throat. I could feel his heartbeat against my skin... or maybe that was mine. The fire under my skin burned hotter, small purple sparks dancing over the backs of my hands. I shook like I was going to fall apart, Remus fucking me with his tongue, already stretched wide. // _His cock is bigger than that. Almost as big as my arm. You remember taking my arm, don’t you, Modah?//_

Memory enveloped me, the feel of Snape’s fingers sliding into me, his taste on my lips, the thick scent of the oil and the throb of the low music. I remembered thinking he was holding my _soul_ in his hand. I remembered the wrenching spasm of my orgasm, my cock spurting untouched as I rode his arm.

The sparks on my skin writhed into fat white veins, and smoke rose from where my skin touched the bed.

_// Shit. //_

The bed caught fire, and the orange flames seemed to shock the Wolf out of Remus, because he scrambled off the bed and hauled me with him, falling backward on the round rug keeping the chill off the wooden floor.

But Remus had only moved the source of the fire, not put it out. Every nerve in my body felt directly wired into my cock, so the scratch of the rug across my bare legs made me gasp, steam coming off of my hair, the sweat boiling away as the purple sparks strobed through the wild mess of my hair.

The rug caught fire under me, and Remus yelped, scooting back and then throwing his hands open, water gushing from his palms, soaking me and the rug. The fire guttered out, but the purple sparks just boiled the water away.

“FUCK, you bastard, do something!” Remus yelled at me, and I wanted to say I couldn’t, but Snape pulled me up by my throat, my knees holding me up, the purple sparks strobing faster. For just one second, I could actually SEE him, standing above me, his black hair snarled, his eyes boring into mine, the window visible through his chest.

_// Come, Harry.//_

The bonds dissolved from around my cock. 

I came like I was dying, the purple lights bursting behind my eyes, and then everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... Surprise!


	11. Chapter 11

I drifted.

“Harry.”

I curled in on myself, hiding from Remus’s voice. He sounded very far away. I could hear him calling my name, panicking. “Harry, Harry, come on now, wake up-”

I stirred in the darkness, not wanting the searing, burning light, Remus and fire and the endless ache of fear. 

“Lazy boy, he’s going out of his mind out there,” Snape murmured, as if he was standing right beside me.

I shook my head, not wanting to go back. I remembered my hands wreathed in fire, the scent of Remus’s hair burning, the strobing purple tracers under my skin, feeling like I was going to explode. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time. Not even the first time today, in fact. Everything you’ve been through, and _now_ you’re giving up? I thought better of you.”

The image of the destroyed porch flashed through my head, and I could easily picture Ron and Hermione, dead in the sand. I curled tighter in the darkness, Remus’s frantic voice fading.

Whatever creature I had been, back at Snape’s feet, I hadn’t been dangerous. 

“Voldemort, I’m sure, would beg to differ... but then, you killed him, didn’t you?” Snape said coldly, and I lashed out at that voice, a bolt of crackling white plasma shattering the darkness. I tumbled back into the light like a hatching bird, shrieking and wet.

I gasped, arching off the rug, Remus falling backward in shock.

Everything was too cold, too loud, too _bright_. It sounded like a river of pianos smashing into the ground, every note playing at once and the ping and twang of snapped strings and the splintering of wood. I felt like I had a bite of the sun in my mouth, searing hot and ice-cold, roasting my brain. I fought the hands holding me, thrashing. My fist connected with the side of Remus’s head, snapping it sideways.

“Jesus fuck,” Remus grunted, trying and failing to catch my flailing wrists. His hands felt like they were made of pins and broken glass. The door banged open, the sound of it clapping against the wood ringing in my ears like a thunderclap, and I writhed, trying to escape the noise.

Ron skidded to a stop, breathing hard, taking in the room for a heartbeat, and then threw himself on my legs as I spasmed again. His pajamas felt like they were made of steel wool, each thread dragging over my skin like wire. 

Hermione grabbed my wrists, pain shooting through the bones, her touch ice and electricity, forcing them to the ground above my head. Ron sat down hard on my shins. Remus’s hands pressed to my chest, and his hair dripped water that burned like acid on my face. I felt like my skin was going to come off on his hands, slide away from the flesh beneath. 

“Shhhh, shhhh, it’s ok, we got you, you’re ok” he was saying, the words hitting me like fists. Their heartbeats pounded out of synch, each rhythm slapping me like waves from a different direction. I shook my head, trying to make them let go, stop _touching_ me, but I couldn’t do anything but scream into the fire in my mouth. The air hurt everywhere; my eardrums felt like they were going to burst. The sun was melting on my tongue, the burn shattering into a million tiny sparks, and then cooling all at once into a hard lump.

Brae’s head appeared over Remus’s shoulder, eyes bright. He tipped his head for a second, looking at me like a bug, and then pecked Remus hard in the back of the skull.

“OW!” Remus said, letting go of me and turning in shock. Brae just pushed past him and shrieked in Hermione’s face, his crest up. She scooted backward, letting go of my wrists. 

Ron was already moving as Brae spun to face him, head down, looking ready to attack. “I’m off, I’m off,” he said, and his fingers flashed, signing the same thing.

As soon their hands came off of me, the air stopped being made of knives, and I gasped in a sweet lungful, flopping back on the rug, my chest heaving. I coughed ash and smoke, my mouth tasting like a tire fire.

Brae crouched by my head, and his small clawed hand reached for my face. I flinched away, but he just clicked at me and waited for me to turn my head back to him before reaching forward again.

I waited for the needles, but his hand just felt warm and dry, like always. He pressed down with his palm, and then _pulled_ without letting go of my head. I moaned as all the extra pressure rushed up my body and _out_ , taking the thundering of their heartbeats and the searing light and the shattering wall of noise from inside my head. Brae _pulled_ harder, hand trembling, his other hand coming up to brace his wrist. His little nails dug into my forehead, but the pain was different, _real_ , and I shut my eyes, trying to breathe, letting him do whatever he was doing.

“What the bloody hell are you thinking, tumbling him? What’s _wrong_ with you?” Ron snapped, and shame rose up my throat, welled in my eyes, before whatever Brae was doing sucked that up, too.

// _He’s not talking to you._ // Snape said, and I pulled my eyes open to see Ron standing over Remus, looking ready to deck him. Brae finally let go of my head, and took a few steps backward before sitting down hard, dropping his head into his hands like it weighed a hundred pounds.

I sat up, only wobbling a little bit. “Ron,” I croaked, and coughed black sand. I wiped my tongue across the back of my hand, trying to get it clean, leaving little black flecks of sand and grey, ashy drool.

I froze, tongue flat against my hand. 

My whole, healed tongue.

Ron turned to look at me, and I touched muscle and skin in wonder, looking up at him. His eyes widened, and he dropped the fist he had been holding at his side.

Remus grabbed a robe and threw it on and then pushed past Ron to go to his knees by my side and yank me into his arms, holding me so tight I couldn’t breathe for a long moment. He was trembling, his bony shoulders knocking against my arms. I hugged him back as well as I could, but my arms didn’t seem to have a lot of strength at the moment.

“Alright, he’s alive, I’m going to put the kettle on,” Hermione said, and I flashed my fingers at her.

:: Find me something harder than tea. ::

She frowned but nodded, and flicked her fingers in response, as she turned and headed to the kitchen. :: Only if you find some pants. ::

I pulled away from Remus, and he wiped at his face with his palms, sitting back on the wet rug, taking a few deep, shuddering breaths. A handkerchief appeared next to his head, and he looked up at Ron, sniffling.

“Don’t wipe your nose on your hand, that’s unsanitary,” he said, and Remus gave him a watery half-smile. 

“Thank you.”

“We’re not done talking about this.” Ron’s face was hard.

“No.”

I cleared my throat, and they both looked over at me. “Could somebody grab me trousers? And can we get off the wet rug?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short one. Rough week. Comments deeply appreciated as each is a tic-tac of joy. <3
> 
> The next chapter is a pretty plot heavy, for all of you who have been waiting for Important Answers for like, years. Thank you for sticking with me.


	12. Chapter 12

We assembled in the living room, back on the couches. Remus ended up carrying Brae, who was more than half-asleep, his beak propped on Remus's shoulder and his stick legs dangling. His little hand was on the back of Remus's neck, holding on tight. 

Hermione had made tea, but also cocoa, and a few kinds of juice. Every cup in the cabin was on the table, it looked like. And, bless her, a bottle of something that sure looked alcoholic. I pulled my robe a little tighter, looking out the large windows at the moonlight on the beach. It was still hours before dawn.

"Here," Hermione said, and handed me a glass of orange juice. 

I rolled my eyes at her, and she just glanced down at it and up at me, smirking.

The smell of cherries and booze hit my nose a moment before the taste flooded my mouth, and I moaned, my eyes sliding shut. The feeling overwhelmed me for a long moment, warm and sweet and sour and I swallowed the mouthful regretfully, sighing as the alcohol burned its way down my throat. I opened my eyes to see all three of them staring at me, Remus with a tea-cup stopped halfway to his mouth.

Hermione shook her head, her cheeks pink. "If you could stop with the sex noises for a few minutes, it would help the rest of us think, thank you very much."

I blushed, but shook my head at her. "You're the one who made this drink. What's in it? Horny Goat Weed?"

"Cherry brandy, orange juice, whiskey. Couldn't find any bitters."

"I'll have a double," Ron said, stepping over the back of the couch instead of going around. Hermione looked like she wanted to protest, but then shrugged and got more glasses down from the cabinets.

Remus finally managed to get a sip of tea, and rubbed a hand over his face, collapsing back into his chair. Hermione made us each a drink, though she put double brandy and no whiskey in hers, I noticed. Remus left his glass on the table, though he looked like he would love to down it in one shot. 

I took another sip of my drink and licked the taste from my lips, my tongue soft and unmarked by a scar. Remus's eyes dropped to the motion, and he seemed to take a deep breath.

"Well, we thought all the excitement had ended at sundown, eh? Sorry for the late night."

Ron snorted, and took a swig of his drink. "Sorry you couldn't keep it in your trousers, you mean."

I opened my mouth to protest, but what came out was, "How do you even manage with that behemoth in normal trousers, anyway?" I said, and clapped my hand over my mouth as all the three of them looked at me in shock. 

Remus flushed deep red, the scars crossing his face disappearing for just a moment, and cleared his throat as Hermione turned and stared pointedly at his lap, her eyebrows lifted. He folded his robe a little tighter, and I shook my head. "That's not what I meant to say. I meant to say that it wasn't Remus's fault."

Ron squinted at me, and I shrugged. "I had a nightmare. I crawled into bed with him."

"Harry, back up a second, to what you said before," Remus said, sitting forward.

"Back to your enormous horsecock, you mean?" I said, and sprung to my feet, hands out. "Oh my god, I didn't mean to say that either!"

Remus's face hardened, and he sighed. "Sit down, sit down. I believe you. This is worse than I thought; I had hoped that it was temporary."

I plunked myself back onto the couch, rubbing at my head. I felt like I hadn't gotten a night's rest in months; every moment, waking or not, full of some new anxiety.

"You're going to tell me I'm going mad, aren't you?" I said, conversationally, "Something broke in my brain and I'm going insane, somehow my magic has gone unstable, I'm due for a padded cell at St Mungo's, assuming there even is such a place anymore."

Ron's face fell, and I nodded. "You think so, too, don't you?"

He grimaced but didn't disagree. "Since... that night, you haven't been the same. I mean, none of us has, but..."

I gulped my drink, letting the burn soothe the hollow ache in my chest. 

Remus was shaking his head. "I don't think you're insane."

I laughed bitterly. "Tell that to the voices in my head, Remus."

His eyes narrowed. "Voices, or _voice_?"

I looked down at my cup. "One voice. The same voice." 

"Harry, I think I might have an inkling of what is going on, but, well, I don't want you to get worked up again; I'm running out of dry laundry. Can you wake Brae up?" 

I shrugged, nudging the sleeping Coraxis with my foot. He lifted his head, and yawned hugely, his spiky black tongue curling before he pushed himself up. :: I'm up, Godfather. Are you ok? Let me see.:: He poked at my mouth with his claws, and I stuck out my tongue so he could poke it.

:: Good good, all healed! :: he said, and flopped over, apparently planning on going back to sleep. 

I reached out and tapped on his foot, frowning at my hand as I did so. Before the short pattern even finished, Brae squawked and sprung to his feet on the couch as if I had poked him with a stick.

Hermione looked shocked. "What did you do?" 

"I don't even know," I said. "Body parts just... do stuff. That happened last night, too..." and then I stopped, a flush coming up on my cheeks, remembering Remus's reaction to my nails raking his flesh. 

"Ahem, yes, we will get to that in a moment," Remus said, and a glance proved that he remembered the same thing. "For now, though, I was hoping I could ask you a few questions, Brae?"

Brae settled back down on the couch, giving me a beady-eyed glance, but nodded at Remus.

:: If you will translate for me, Godfather?::

I started to nod, and then paused, and plucked at the gargoyle necklace, which had long since dried out. "Any reason this wouldn't work on him?" I asked Remus, who blinked for a moment. 

"I have no idea. I've never met another of his kind. But it won't hurt to try?"

I pulled the necklace off, and offered it to Brae, half expecting his hand to sizzle as Snape's had in the dream, but he took the little stone figure with no fuss. He licked across its head, filling the divot with spit. He tipped his head back and forth a few times, measuring the leather thong, and then dropped it over his beak and threw his head back, settling it over his neck. The gargoyle was barely visible in his ruff of black feathers.

"Well?" I said, and he raised his hands to sign to me. I pushed them down. "I know you can talk, I've heard you do it."

"Yes, but never to you- OH!" Brae said, the quorking of his voice twisting into English, "Oh, this is very strange!" He looked at us, nervously. "You can understand me, then?"

"Yes! Hello there, Brae! Very nice to be able to talk directly to you," Remus grinned at the lot of us. "I wasn't sure at all if that would work, you know."

Hermione had her thinking face on, and I saw her pull a notepad and pen out from under the cushions on her half of the beat-up couch, and start to take notes. 

Brae nodded. His voice, through the stone, was almost musical, rising and falling in odd places. "I did not know either. It is a fine bit of Sensus, Master Wolf."

My head snapped up, remembering the word from the dream. Remus's head did too, and his eyes caught my recognition. His eyes narrowed, but he let it drop. For now, anyway. 

"Thank you Brae, but I would appreciate it if you would call me Remus," he said, still looking at me.

"As you say, Remus," Brae said, and kicked his stick legs against the couch. "This is weird. I do not... chat with anyone, since we left Big Nest."

I looked over at him, "We talk!"

"Yes, but the sign is... slow. And I am not used to being away from my Nestmates. They talk very fast. You sign very slow." His beak gaped in a smile that faded as he sighed and kicked his feet again. "But now Ma- er, Remus has given me this charm, and I can sound talk with all of you, so that is very nice."

"I'm sorry, Brae, I didn't realize you were lonely." I frowned, and he rubbed his head against my shoulder.

"No no, Godfather, I am not lonely. You are all here with me. But you do talk sideways and backward at each other and it would be nice to correct you sometimes."

I snorted a laugh, and he grinned.

Every time Brae said a word I didn't understand, Hermione's pen flickered over the page.

"Hey, you could have jumped in at any time, you know," Ron said, and Brae looked horrified.

"Coraxis do not _volunteer_ information," he said, highly offended. "Especially to the Apteran." His crest fluffed and settled.

"I'm a what-now?" Ron said, looking over at Hermione. "Did he insult me?"

"Wingless, I think," she said, and Brae clacked his beak in agreement.

"...Wait, is that an insult? I still feel like it was an insult." 

"Hush, Ron," she said, but she was fighting a smile.

"Brae, are you saying that you have had information about what we have been talking about the entire time, but you didn't say anything because we didn't _ask_ you?" Remus leaned forward, his robe gaping open a little bit at the neck. I could see a faint pink mark from my stubble on his jaw, and I wondered what his skin would taste like with my whole tongue...

Brae was nodding at Remus, who groaned and dragged a hand down his face, and then grabbed his drink and downed it in three long gulps. He hiccoughed, and then put the glass down upside down on the table with a thump. 

"Well, tell us then," I said, and Brae rolled his eyes. 

"Godfather, not to preen before I have fledged, but... We would be here for many months if I were to tell you all that you do not know."

My mouth dropped open in shock. Ron hooted with laughter, and Brae kicked his feet, apparently having a wonderful time with his new voice. 

Remus was laughing and trying to hide it, his cheeks flushed. "Was he this funny in sign, too?" he asked Hermione, who shook her head.

"Not nearly."

I grabbed Brae with a mock roar and ruffled his crest like I had done when he was much smaller. He chirped and squawked and made a great show of being unable to get my hand off his head, but I was surprised at how strong he was, considering he was still only a few feet tall. 

We sorted ourselves out after a few moments. I finished my drink, carefully keeping any noises to myself. I felt warm and happy, and I wondered exactly how strong Hermione mixed her drinks. 

"Hold on, you still didn't offer any information," Ron said, and Brae looked at him, and then looked away, some of the puff sinking out of his feathers.

"Hm, I think I understand. It may be that Brae actually _cannot_ offer any information, rather than choosing not too," Remus said, and Brae looked up, sagging in relief.

"As you say, Master Wolf."

"Tricky stuff, Sᓍᑘᒪ ᘻᗩᘜᓰᑢ," Remus, said, tucking his feet up under him in his chair and leaning over to look at Hermione's notebook. 

Brae made a face I'd never seen before, one eye twitching and his beak drooping, and then shook it off, blinking a few times.

"Hey, uh, let's not say that anymore, ok?" I said, "I don't think Brae likes it." 

Brae flicked his fingers at me, a tiny, almost hidden :: thank you. ::

Hermione and Remus looked over the edge of her notebook at us, and I suddenly felt like one of the bugs Brae stalked and hunted in the camp.

"It is unpleasant, isn't it? We could use the Sensitivities, I suppose, but it's a remnant of a particularly ignoble time in our history, and I rather hate it," Remus said.

"Snape calls it Sensus, doesn't he?" I asked Brae, and he nodded. "But he didn't make that up, you've heard it before, right Remus?"

"Yes. I am curious though know why you seem to know it when this morning the concept of Sensus was totally alien."

"Technically, that was yesterday," Hermione said, and Remus glanced at the clock.

"Oh, so it was. I suppose I can have another drink then, as it's breakfast." He leaned forward and poured himself a few fingers of brandy, waving off Hermione's offer of orange juice. "So, where _did_ you hear that name, since yesterday? I don't believe you are a good enough actor to fake it." He sipped at his drink, waiting for me to respond.

"You'd be surprised how good he is at faking it," Hermione said when I didn't reply, and then giggled when I looked at her. "Apparently that brandy is quite strong."

Remus choked on his mouthful, and I shook my head, amazed that I could still blush at all. Hermione thumped Remus on the back. Brae put his hand on my arm, and I relaxed back on the couch. It was warm in here, had it been that warm before?

Ron felt it too. He reached forward and fished an ice cube out of his drink, and I couldn't help watching as he sucked on it. I felt my cock twitch, and took a deep breath, looking away.

"You need water, Godfather," Brae said suddenly, and hopped off the couch.

"Me too? Please?" yelled Ron after him, and Brae nodded. He brought back a pitcher clinking with ice cubes and a stack of glasses.

"We are out of cups. You must finish your drink if you want some," Brae said to Hermione, who shrugged and downed the last few swallows, her eyes watering a little as the brandy went down hard. 

"Ahem, yes, well," Remus managed to get out, and then dragged a hand down his face. "I am so in over my head, here."

_// You have no idea, wolf. //_

Brae handed me a mason jar glass, full nearly to the brim, and I downed it in a few huge gulps, mostly to keep it from spilling. Ron took a long sip of his and then rolled it over his forehead head, the wet glass dripping down his face.

I was crunching on an ice cube when the faint aftertaste hit me, and my head swam. The room went hazy around the edges, the light from the lamp flickering as I shook my head. I looked down at my glass, and then over at Brae, but it took three hundred years to turn my head that far. 

He was filling Hermione's glass from the pitcher. Remus was already finishing his, draining it in one long go. I watched the muscles in his neck as he swallowed, and could almost feel the motion around my cock.

Next to me, I saw Ron shake his head, hard. 

I opened my mouth to warn Hermione not to drink it, but no sound came out.

// _You will say nothing._ // Snape said in my head, and my chest clenched. Blood thundered in my ears, my heart slammed against my ribs, but I couldn't even raise my hand to sign to her; my joints had gone soft as jellied eels and all I managed was a feeble twitch. The haze solidified, veins of iridescent light fanning out like frost on a window.

Ron shook his head again and looked down into his half-finished glass, frowning. Brae reached out and steadied Ron's hand as he refilled the glass, and this time I could see him _pull_ the worry right out of Ron's face, his forehead smoothing out. He lifted the glass to his lips without complaint at Brae's urging. Ron finished the drink, and Brae patted his knee as he slumped on the couch, catching the glass as it rolled from his hand.

Hermione was already half out of it, but I saw her lift her head with great difficulty from the cushion. "Brae," she said, and I could see her voice in the air, breaking the crystalline light into shards. "What did you do?" 

She sat up, swaying, and Brae hurriedly set Ron's cup on the table and hopped over Remus's leg, catching her hand in both of his smaller ones as she went for her wand on the table. 

"I am sorry, Bili," he said, and her eyes went round and panicked for a moment before Brae _pulled_ the emotion away. I saw both of them sway, Hermione sagging and Brae reeling away like he was drunk, tottering stiff-legged a few steps before he managed to turn around. 

Purple sparks leaked from his eyes, running down the shiny black feathers and fizzing as they dropped into the crystalline air. He shook his hands like they were hot, and he panted, his tail flicking open as he kept his feet, barely.

My teeth started to itch madly, and I rolled my head toward Remus, who was sitting calm and still in his chair, hands resting on the overstuffed armrests. His head was bowed, his shaggy hair falling over his face. The itching in my teeth got worse.

Brae shook his hands again, and looked at Remus, his crest fluffing in alarm.

"What do I do?" he asked me, hopping from one foot to another. The sparks were running faster, strobing purple rivulets dripping down his chest, hitting the stone gargoyle, and exploding with tiny puffs of golden smoke.

 _// How would I know? //_ I said, and I jerked as my voice rang through my head instead of out loud. 

"I am not talking to you, Godfather," Brae said. 

"No, he's talking to me," Snape said with my voice and took control of my body entirely. 

He stood up, looked down at my hands and flexed them a few times, rolled my shoulders, frowning down at my bare feet. "I'll take care of it Brae, just breathe and stay put for now."

"Snape," Remus growled without lifting his head, "Let them go. Haven't you done enough to them?" He hadn't moved an inch, but I got the feeling that he was straining with everything in his body.

Snape walked toward him, and his stride with my feet made a moan shiver out of my throat. He paused and stroked the back of his fingers down my chest, the same way he had when I kneeled for him the first time. 

"Shhh, Modah, just a little more. You can take a little bit more for me, can't you?" The feeling didn't make any sense, they were _my_ fingers, but I sighed, feeling myself starting to drop, the drugs and whatever Snape was doing dulling my panic. I managed to jerk my other hand away from his control, lifting it to my temple, but he wrapped his fingers around my wrist and held tight, then easily took it back. He slid that hand into my hair, clenching hard at the nape of my neck. My will to fight him dissolved as he pulled hard, the pain washing through me like a blessing.

"That's it, you've been so strong this whole time. Stop fighting, let me take the will you haven't wanted since I gave it back to you." Snape's words sank into me with the sparks of pain from my hair, and I trembled and let go.

My teeth itched as Snape crouched in front of Remus, whose hand twitched against the arm of the chair with the same buzzing energy that rattled my jaw. Snape held his hand just above Remus's skin for a moment, and then slid his palm over the back of Remus's hand.

"Sorry, old friend," he murmured, and energy rushed down my arm. Remus jerked backward in his chair like he was being electrocuted. I watched in horror as familiar black veins grew under Remus's skin. My sense of where I ended and Remus began popped like a balloon, and I could feel my back against the chair, my hand burning where Snape held it and the immense pressure of the caged Wolf being held back by force of Remus's will.

Will that was being rapidly eroded by the drug and the creeping black veins. Cracks formed, the beast slamming against the other side of its prison.

Snape tisked, and slid his other hand behind Remus's neck, cradling his head. "This was never part of the plan, you know," he said, and more of the veins invaded. I felt them looking for gaps in the barrier, worming into every chink in Remus's armor.

I could feel Remus fighting back, the forest-and-blood feel of his magic boiling under the thick muffling layer of the drugs and Snape's control, bursting to the surface and clawing back the veins only to be pushed under again. The wall holding the beast back cracked as Remus lost more and more ground.

"Severus, no, please," Remus whimpered, and his terror that he'd kill us all was an acrid, blinding cloud.

"I'm not trying to _free_ it, you imbecile," Snape grunted.

Remus's face suddenly blurred, shifted, the Wolf snapping inches from my nose before Remus pulled it back. I _felt_ Snape flinch back, his fear huge and sour in my mouth. The black veins pulsed, stretching, the beast close to breaking out.

Small black claws gripped my arm tight, and I looked down at Brae, the purple river of sparks running backward up his cheeks into his eyes. His energy swooped in where Snape had faltered, snatching at the Wolf and pulling it back, giving Snape a moment to recover.

I could see it, now, the place inside Remus where the creature lived, a shriveled, dark corner draped in broken chains. The beast roared, slamming against the magic holding it back, Brae's river of sparks starting to run dry.

"Godfather, _please_ ," Brae said, and I could feel what he wanted, like a child yanking desperately on my sleeve. I _pushed_ everything I had down my arm, following what Brae had done, hoping I was doing the right thing. I felt like I breached a dam, the pressure thundering like being under a waterfall.

The veins bulged and swelled, doubling, tripling, tendrils branching out and connecting, forming a net over the snarling, raging beast. Snape got himself under control, and I felt him harness the river of energy and direct it, pulling the beast back into the corner of Remus's soul it infected, lashing it in place with thick, black bands.

It _howled_ , the sound going through my bones and ringing through the crystalline air. I saw the windows of the cabin crack, the clock topple over on the mantle. And then Snape tied a band of black around its muzzle and yanked it tight.

The Wolf yelped and then gave a pitiful whine. I felt it give up and slink down.

A burst of triumph and vicious satisfaction rolled through me. Snape spent a few more moments building layer upon layer of bindings, but the raging river I had been sending slowed to a trickle and then stopped. I swayed on my feet, only then realizing I had control again. 

I pulled my hands off Remus, fell backward onto my couch, breathing hard. Brae collapsed at the foot of Remus's chair, his chest rising and falling hard enough that I could see it.

I could still _feel_ Remus, I realized, I could still feel all of them, as if I could press just a little and cross the line between us. He had pulled his legs up and curled against the back of the chair, his head buried in his arms. 

// That's _because I'm too tired to close the connections, //_ Snape said, and even his not-voice was tired. _// But that damn wolf can't hurt us. For now. //_

"What did you do?" I said out loud, and Remus startled in his chair, jerking upright like he had forgotten we were there. His face was pale except for the red lines of the scars.

_// What I had to. //_

Remus fumbled for his wand and pointed it at me, the tip shaking so hard I was pretty sure he'd hex Ron's head off if he cast anything. He dropped into a fighting stance, though he was swaying.

"It's me, it's me!" I said, holding up my hands.

"But it's not only you, is it? _IS_ _IT_?" Two red spots came up on his pale cheeks, and his other hand came up to steady his wand. "What did you do to me, Severus? I swear to god I'll hex him, I bet I can make you feel it."

"You won't," Snape said with my voice and my eyes widened as Remus dropped his wand and shot forward, one hand catching me under the chin and forcing my head back, tightening on my throat, the other slamming over my heart.

I grunted, the air forced out of me, and the angle he held my head made it hard to get more.

"I can _feel you in me,"_ Remus snarled, "What did you _do_ , Severus?" He shook my head with his hand. Spots danced in front of my eyes. He let up on my neck and I gulped air. Snape stayed silent.

Remus kneeled on the couch on either side of my hips, leaning hard against my chest, his hand hard around my jaw. He looked me hard in the eyes, and I tried not to tremble under the anger in his tawny gaze. He waited another long moment, and then leaned forward to speak into my ear. "I know you're in there, Sev. You may think you're safe, but you're not the only one who has been studying. _Doleo anima."_

Pain shot through me like a thousand needles radiating out from his hand on my chest, and I arched, but the pain wasn't physical, it didn't hurt anywhere _real_ , anywhere I could touch. I writhed, and I could feel Snape jerk like he was being shot. I got the feeling that it hurt him a lot more than it hurt me, and found I didn't mind one bit.

Then it was over, and Remus's hand slid under my head, holding me as I sagged. I could feel Snape gathering himself, and pulled my eyes open.

"He didn't like that one bit," I said hoarsely, and managed to pat Remus's knee, "Good job."

Remus's hard face cracked, the anger falling away, and he rolled off of me to collapse on the couch by my side. He took a few deep breaths, and then rolled his head, his neck cracking. "To be honest, neither did I." He pulled the neck of his robe open, and I could see a shadow of a collar around his throat made of twisted black veins. He was watching my face, and sighed when he saw my eyes drop to it and go wide.

"I was afraid of that. Sev, what are you doing? I _will_ Doleo him again, I swear to Christ."

My hand lifted from my lap, wobbled to eye level, and flipped two fingers at Remus before dropping again.

"Fucking prat. Teach me, I'll do it myself," I said, and Remus chuckled exhaustedly.

Brae sat up, looking around. He saw us sitting together on the couch, Ron and Hermione still out. He stood up, and I saw him twist his fingers together, looking at his feet.

"Brae, how long have you known?" I said.

He looked up, and I could feel his distress through the bond. "About which part, Godfather?"

"How long has Snape been talking to you through me, how's that? Specific enough?"

He dropped his head and shifted from one foot to the other. "Since we left Big Nest, Godfather."

"Fuck, Scrimjour was right, I am a spy, and I didn't even know it." I rubbed my knuckles into my eyes, and felt Snape stirring. 

Brae opened his mouth and then clacked it shut again, looking like he was in pain. Something passed between us, I could feel it, and I saw his little fists clench. He opened his mouth again, and my hand twitched to life, signing :: NO. Do NOT :: very clearly.

He took a breath and stomped one stick foot. My hand twitched again and Remus reached out and grabbed it in a fist, stilling it's movement.

"Hush, you," Remus said. "Go on, Brae, what is it?" 

"You have trapped him!" he suddenly squawked, and then threw himself at my feet, groveling. "I am sorry I am sorry. Please do not throw me out of the nest. I can not get you out without them, we are too far!"

Remus and I looked at each other, and down at Brae.

I felt a weird shivering, pulling sensation, and a shadow suddenly detached itself from my body and stood up, crouching next to Brae. I could see through him, but it was clearly Snape.

"Don't you hurt him," I said, and he shot me a disgusted look.

"Brae," Snape said, and I was shocked at the softness in his voice. "Of course I would not throw you out. There's nothing you could do that would make me do that."

Brae sat up and looked up at the shadow, and reached for it like a child. Snape shook his head, and passed his hand through Brae's outstretched one. "But I offered information. I put the Plan at risk."

"If I don't get out of here, the Plan is fucked anyway. You did your best. Now, get up and get the notebook, I suspect we are in for a bit of an interrogation."

Brae saluted in the manner of the house, his fist against his beak, and then ran off toward our room.

The shadow stood up, and stepped over to Remus's empty chair, sitting down like he owned the place. He shut his eyes for a moment, and there was a sucking feeling, like someone was sipping at my hair with a straw. Remus blinked, and I saw Hermione twitch in her sleep.

Snape's form filled in like a developing picture, and after a few moments he was as solid-looking as any of us, in the white shirt and black pants he had been wearing on the beach.

Remus squinted at him, and then picked up a random empty glass from the table and threw it at Snape's face. He saw it at the last second and turned slightly, so smacked hard into the side of his head. I grunted as pain bloomed on the side of mine.

"Ow," I said, and Remus glanced at me and shrugged a bit in apology.

"That was very mature, boy."

"Boy? Fuck you, you call me Remus, or you don't talk to me."

Snape hmmed, and crossed his legs at the ankle, looking as if this was his cabin, and we were the intruders. "Usually when I take a new Corvatica, I take their name, and you'd have a few weeks to earn a new one."

Remus sat up a little bit, but the motion seemed to exhaust him. "My name is my own, and you have no claim to it."

Snape twisted his fingers in a motion I knew well, but instead of feeling the invisible bonds twine around my balls, I felt Remus jerk at my side. "Even Black earned a new name on his knees, boy, why should you be any different?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :: flails, and then flails some more :: SO MUCH, so much. AHHHHHHHH.
> 
> I told you that prequels were brewing. Hows "The Breaking of Sirius Black" as a WIP title?
> 
> EDIT: AHHHH. Ahem. Ok. So. I started a twitter? @mousewritesF and I did the discord thing, mousewrites#1439 Thank you so much for all your kind comments, they helped me through last week very much. <3


	13. Chapter 13

Remus burst out laughing, and then sputtered and dropped a hand into his lap, pulling at the bindings, shaking with mirth. “Oh, hahaha, the very thought - hee hee hee - As if he’d -hahaha _ever hahaha-!”_

I tried to wrap my brain around what Snape was saying. Sirius ... was a Corvatica? Next to me, Remus was laughing so hard he couldn’t actually get any words out. I couldn’t help it, I snorted a laugh, which sent Remus into even harder spasms, his face going bright red, the scars flushing like blood. 

Snape’s face darkened, and he twisted his fingers again. Remus jerked, a yelp breaking through the huffs for air, but he flicked two fingers at Snape and rolled his eyes at me. “No worse - hee hee - than a stubbed toe, haha - That all you got - tee hee hee - Sev?”

I tried not to laugh, I really did, but Remus was laughing so hard and Snape looked ready to spit nails and the drug still made everything rainbow and soft. The little puffs of giggles broke from my lips, and Snape glowered at me. 

“I would recommend controlling yourself,” he said, and Remus paused for just a second, his eyes bright, before setting off again, smacking the arm of the couch and elbowing me in the ribs.

My little giggles ran together as Remus’s laughter edged into mania, and by the time irritation had driven Snape out of his chair to take us in hand, I was crying with laughter, my stomach aching with it. I could feel the pressure starting to build in my ears. Blue sparks danced in the spaces between my fingers. 

Snape slapped Remus hard across the face, and before I could process the noise Remus had exploded off of the couch, bowling Snape over backward and slamming him onto the table full of half-full drinks and bottles. His robe had come undone, flapping behind him like a cape, his scarred legs white slashes against Snape’s black trousers.

The smell of cherry brandy and cocoa hit my nose as the table collapsed with a crash. My teeth rattled like dice as Remus pulled his hands apart over Snape’s head, fingers spread wide, the laughter spooling between his fingertips like a spiderweb made of spun glass. He wrapped it around the hand Snape was trying to get around his throat and then pushed it into Snape’s hair, the webbing sticky and stretchy like chewing gum still flavored with Remus’s mirth.

They rolled, Snape ripping the silvery webbing away as fast as Remus could make it. His laughter started to run dry, and the hot burn of his anger underneath it melted the webbing into uselessness as his grin became a snarl. Snape pulled his hand free from his hair, finally, and grabbed the robe, reeling Remus’s head down.

Remus suddenly twisted around toward me and clawed the air, rotating his fist and _yanking_. I arched, screaming, as he tore magic out of me, long golden strings fluttering into his hand only to be pulled like taffy between his hands, thick and opaque where his own had been transparent. His grin went sharp, and he used the mass to glue Snape’s hands to the floor. 

If Snape had sipped a little off the top to make his form, Remus had just ripped a hole in the side of the barrel with his teeth. Something was running out of me, soaking the couch, but I couldn’t tell if it was real or just another hallucination brought on by drugs. 

“Damn your hide, you don’t-”

As soon as Snape’s arms were secure, Remus whipped the belt from his robe out of the loops and tied it across his mouth, plastering the knot with more webbing, and then pulled himself away. He took a few reeling steps toward the door before apparitating away with an enormous BANG that blew out the cracked windows, leaving the sound of the beach and the wind in the trees to fill the sudden, deafening silence.

“He... left us,” I said numbly, my ears faintly ringing. Even my teeth weren’t buzzing anymore. My chest felt hollow, scooped out like a pumpkin. 

Snape clawed his way out of the web and yanked the gag out of his mouth, his face thunderous, and then stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled shrilly. There was an answering shriek from the back of the cabin, and Brae shot out the door like a hunting dog, his dark feathers invisible against the false night sky. 

“He tried to. He won’t get far.” He stood and brushed himself off. I could see the couch through his legs. He followed my eyes and sighed, then leaned over and ran a hand over Hermione’s hair, just barely touching her.

His form solidified again, and he stood for a long moment, looking out the cabin windows, then brushed his fingers over Ron’s hair, as well. He became even more solid, and Ron murmured into his couch cushion and started to snore. I slid down on the couch, feeling like a leaky quaffle. He turned back and looked at me for a long moment, and then came over and propped me back up on the couch, tucking a stray pillow under my shoulder to keep me vertical.

And then, he did the strangest thing. 

He sat down on the couch next to me and crossed his ankles as if we were friends. Whatever I was leaking on the couch was either a hallucination or Snape didn’t mind sitting in it.

I felt _wrong_ sitting here next to him. My pajamas felt clumsy and hot, and I felt enormous, much too tall. I wanted to yell or kick him, or demand answers... but the simple fact that I hadn’t been imagining Snape was so enormously relieving that it took the fight out of me. I sighed and gave in to my urge to lean on his shoulder.

The surprise that flickered through the bond was quickly stifled, and he shifted his arm so that I could lean against his chest, instead of the pillow. His other hand stroked down my chest, soothing the places Remus had torn, pulling the raw edges together and mending them with a brush of palm. I could feel the warmth of his hand through my shirt, and something deep in me stopped shivering at last.

Somehow, I fell asleep. 

I awoke to sunshine and birdsong. Snape was nowhere in sight, but Brae was sleeping hard in the crook of my arm, one leg stuck up in the air, his long toes curling and uncurling as he snored. He was caked in drying mud and leaves, his feathers rumpled and patchy in places. 

Ron and Hermione were still asleep on the other couches.

Remus stood in the kitchen, dressed as if this was any other morning, making tea.

I shifted, and Remus glanced over his shoulder at me. His face had a new layer of scratches across it, already healing. “Good morning, Harry.”

He brought me a cup of tea, and a sleeve of chocolate biscuits, and sat in his chair gingerly. His trouser legs rode up, and I could see the scratches on his legs, deep gouges across his ankles like he ran through the woods naked. 

He saw me looking and waved a hand. “Looks worse than it is. Sev’s little leash yanked me back, but it dropped me on the far side of the cavern, and I was being chased by what I _thought_ was a great slavering beast that turned out to be your godson. I wasn’t exactly watching where I was going.”

I stretched, yawned, my back cracking. For once, I didn’t wake up exhausted or have come in my pants, or, you know, on _fire_. 

“Hey, Remus? Why aren’t I more worried? Last I saw you, you left us here, and I’m really, really angry at you, yet I can’t be arsed to give a damn at the moment.” I asked him, drinking my tea. He was nodding, and I noticed one foot start to bounce and then slow down again, like a stalling engine.

“That’s Sev’s doing,” he said mildly. “Right sour bastard is draining off anything more energetic than ‘faintly chipper’. He’s dried up ‘worried’, ‘angry’, and sadly, entirely turned off ‘Punch him in the throat.’” Remus glanced toward the back of the cabin, and his voice ticked up in volume. “Because I BEAT HIS ARSE LAST NIGHT and he KNOWS it.”

He smirked at me as the noise of a cabinet slamming shut drifted from the back, and dropped his voice to a murmur. “He’s still trapped here. I got as far as I meant to. Just have to stall, now.”

Remus tapped his finger to the side of his nose, and then went back to sipping his tea. The noise had woken Hermione, but she didn’t look entirely conscious, her eyes half shut, a little frown on her face. Remus got her a cup of tea and refilled mine. I drank it quietly, finding it disturbingly easy to let my mind go blank and watch the beach through the repaired windows of the cabin. 

Ron yawned and sat up, his hair sideways, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. His face went bloodless when Snape walked into the living room, carrying a handful of potion bottles that he quietly set on the table. Ron’s eyes closed, a shudder working its way up his spine to shiver out the top of his head.

Surprise-flavored horror came off of Snape as Ron looked up at him and then slid off the couch to kneel in the waiting position on the rug, his hands locked behind his neck, his head bowed. Anything like a human emotion drained out of his face, leaving him blank and empty.

The transition happened so fast I almost missed it, but Ron had melted away, and Taru knelt in his place.

Hermione gasped and went for her missing wand, digging under the cushions without taking her eyes off of Snape. She wouldn’t find it on the couch; I could see it sitting with the rest of ours, in a cup on the mantle. She pulled her pen from the cushions and put herself between Taru and Snape, pen clenched in her hand like she intended to stab him with it if he came closer.

“We should help her,” I said to Remus, and he nodded.

“Yes, I very much would like to. But I can’t move my legs, can you?”

I found I couldn’t, and shrugged, unable to be overly concerned. Snape hadn’t moved, but the tension was climbing as if they were screaming at each other, instead of having a staring match. After a few tense heartbeats, Snape took a step forward, and Hermione slashed her pen through the air as if she could throw a spell with it.

The white linen of his shirt ripped with a snarl, loose buttons clattering like dropped teeth, as if her pen had sliced him from ten feet away. He stopped, blinked, touched the edges of the cut. She looked at the pen, then at his shirt. Her eyes lit with a flame I hadn’t seen in months, and she slashed again, backhand. Snape twisted to the side, and the strike carved a deep line into the wall behind the table.

Before she could get her pen up again, Snape closed the distance and grabbed her wrist, the pen dropping from her fingers as he twisted. She grabbed his arm with her other hand, stepping into him and flipping him over her shoulder. His eyes were wide with surprise as he hit the ground with a thud.

Remus laughed. “Beautiful throw, Hermione!”

Snape rolled to his belly and grabbed her ankles, yanking her off her feet. Her butt hit the floor, and she kicked him in the jaw, wrenching his head to the side.

“Enough,” he spat, and she froze, mid-kick. The flame in her eyes promised murder. He took his hands off of her, and she didn’t move, her muscles locked. He pushed himself up, frowning as he stuck his fingers through the slice in his shirt. He shook his head, and shut his eyes in concentration, smoothing away the tear as if it had never been, at the expense of his legs going transparent again.

Everything went quiet for a few moments.

He picked up one of the bottles he had put on the table, stared down at it, turning it slowly in his hand so that the light bounced off of the facets of the cut crystal. When he spoke, it was more to the little bottle than to us.

“Veritaserum. Three drops and most would tell you their deepest secrets. Can be overcome, with occlumency and the antidote. One of which I have but you can sense, the other I do not."

He held up the bottle so that we could see it, but didn’t look up.

“You made this, yes?” he said to Remus, who nodded. “Did you brew or have any antidote in this stone prison?” 

“No.”

Snape pulled the dropper and looked at it for a long moment.

“You have no reason on this Earth to trust a single thing I say, and yet, without your help, the rest of the Plan is going to fall apart, and I cannot let that happen. So I will give you the only thing I can.” 

He finally looked over at us, and I had never seen him look... nervous before. 

“I hope you’ve gotten better at brewing, I’d prefer not to vomit soul-stuff all over the rug.” 

He decanted three drops directly onto his tongue, glanced at us, and added a fourth. He made a face. "Your boomslang skin is going off, you know." He capped the bottle and tossed the bottle to Remus, licking his lips. “Check it.”

Remus sniffed the cap and shrugged. “Far as I can tell, you didn’t do anything to it. Can't be sure. Of course, you just took enough to make a boggart cry, but I have no idea how that will affect you in your current... state.” He gestured vaguely at Snape, including his still-transparent shins.

My head swam, and swayed. “Woah...”

Snape smirked at me, “Oh, I neglected to mention, I’ve just dosed you with it, as well, due to our shared circumstance. I’d recommend you don’t talk. Of course, I think it would be more than fitting if you end up emotionally gutting yourself like a fish, as I am terrified I am about to do.” He frowned, and looked out the window for a moment.

Remus shook his head. “This kind of theatrics are hardly necessary, Severus. Just drop your Bind, tell me what you fucking _did_ to me, and then maybe we won’t kick your arse while we figure out what to do from here.”

“Oh, I know exactly what we need to do, I just can’t do it _without_ you, which exceedingly displeases me.”

Hermione’s angry flame had sputtered into confusion. He twisted his hand in the air, and her muscles slowly unlocked, her leg sinking to the ground. She slid a little ways away from him, but didn’t run. He looked at Taru, still kneeling motionless on the rug, but spoke to her “Go. See if you can get him up. I don’t think me doing it will be any good for him.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes but slid across the floor, coming to a rest next to Taru, on the carpet. He hadn’t moved since his knees had hit the ground. She waved at him, but he didn’t respond. “Ron, you can get up, he’s not going to touch you.”

I gave Snape a hard look, and he rolled his eyes. “Our current inability to lie doesn’t extend to her. I didn’t promise not to touch him.”

Hermione chewed her lip for a moment and then exhaled decisively. Moving slowly enough that he could stop her, she slid behind Taru and kneeled up, pressing her chest to his back, wrapping her arms around him, resting her chin on his shoulder, speaking quietly into his ear.

It was a variation of the Wall, the cocksucking position Snape had taught us months ago. I remembered how strange his cock had tasted, how terrified I was that I would like it, the way his groan had thrummed through the meat of his cock, and I realized that it was my tongue that had made him make that noise.

I felt my cheeks go hot, and looked away. Snape was watching me, I could feel it. I swallowed hard and ran my hand over Brae’s head. He was still asleep.

Remus tipped his head. “Do I want to know why a simple hug is making you blush?” he asked, and I answered without thinking.

“Reminded me of sucking Snape’s cock the first time-hrk!” Remus leaned over the arm of his chair and muffled me with his palm.

“Ok, my bad, no asking Harry questions, got it.” I could taste his skin, and couldn’t resist a tiny lick to his palm with the tip of my tongue. He pulled his hand away, but tapped the tip of my nose with his finger. I wasn’t sure if it was a ‘bad dog’ or a ‘maybe later’. 

Either would be fine with me, if I was being honest with myself. And I was pretty sure at this point I had no choice.

Snape shook his head, watching the exchange. “As I said, I recommend you don’t talk. I could take your voice, if you wish...?”

“No! I don’t want that,” I spat.

He nodded. 

From the rug, I heard a thump, and looked over to see Ron and Hermione necking. She was holding his arms firmly over his head. She was astride him, her knees pressed into his hips, her bare feet tucked under his knees, trapping him beneath her.

“Huh. I had expected her to slap him,” Snape said, and he casually sat on the ugly loveseat that had gone unused so far. 

“That’s your solution for everything, is it?” Remus said, but his eyes were on the two on the rug.

“Only for problems that can be solved by slapping,” Snape said. He sounded distracted, but I wasn’t entirely paying attention. Ron arched his hips up into hers, and she hummed and ground down on him with a sinuous wriggle. Her pajamas pulled tight against her ass, digging in, and I swore I could feel it as she rocked her clit back and forth across the bump of the seam where she rubbed over Ron’s cock. Both were still fully dressed, but I felt like I had walked in on them.

It’s not like I hadn’t seen them fuck before, both before we escaped, and since. I knew they found comfort in each other’s arms, had woken more than once to hear their shared pants and hushed groans in the tent. The sounds of their pleasure were as familiar and comforting as anything else in my life.

I realized I was hard as hell, straining against the thin sleep pants.

“Sev, why are you doing this, what purpose does it serve?” Remus crossed his legs, looking uncomfortable.

“Oh, this isn’t my doing, Wolf.”

“Hm. Well, could you give me back all of my emotions, please, so that I can figure out why we’re about five minutes from an orgy?”

“So you can punch me in the throat? I think not. But I agree, I’m finding it hard to think, myself.” Snape didn’t seem inclined to actually do anything about it, though, looking perfectly content to watch as Hermione continued to ravage Ron’s mouth. Remus looked transfixed. I rolled my eyes, realizing that for once, I may have been the coolest head in the room. 

“Hermione, hey, can you come up for air for a minute?” I said, and she wrenched her head away, her lips pink and swollen. Her eyes were half-lidded, and it took her a moment to focus on me. Ron was panting, his freckles hidden by the flush across his face.

“Huh? What is it?” Her words were slow like it took them a long time to find their way out of her mouth. She didn’t let go of Ron’s wrists, I noticed, and her hips still twitched against him.

Snape’s voice rolled across the rug, absent the normal edge. “You seem to have revived him. While I am certain that the three of us would quite enjoy the show, we have rather pressing matters to discuss. If you would be willing to pause your activities and join us?”

Hermione shook her head hard and blinked like she was waking up. She sat up, letting Ron’s hands go but pressing down on his lap, wrenching a groan out of him. She looked back and forth between us, shame burning in her face for just a moment, but she shook it off and nodded.

“Yes. And I’m sure you would have enjoyed the show, but you don’t have that right anymore.” She pushed herself off of Ron, giving me a momentary eyeful as she bent over to give him a hand up. 

I expected Snape to comment, but he merely tipped his head in acknowledgment of her statement. Ron’s hard-on was plain in his pants, but he didn’t bother to hide it. He didn’t seem to be tracking very well, but he had lost Taru’s terrible empty face.

She got him to sit down on the couch, and he curled into her side, not looking at Snape. She put her arm around him, glaring across the rug at him.

The room still felt too hot, but the rising tension had dropped back to a low simmer. 

Snape looked like he was going to speak but then paused, his brow creasing. “I find myself with too many names for you. While I’m sure your preference would be to never hear your name from my lips again, I’ll need some way to address you, and I suspect I will choose incorrectly on my own.”

Hermione blinked, and then blinked again. “Are you asking what we prefer to be called?”

“Yes.”

She shook her head. “You took liberties with our bodies, minds, and apparently _souls_ gleefully, and now you’re concerned that you may offend with a name? You’re a piece of work, Snape.”

“I won’t disagree. I’m sure whatever feelings you have regarding my treatment of you are entirely justified, and you could hardly loathe me more than I already loathe myself. You earned your name back, I’m just not sure I have the right to use it.”

“We established last night that you can call me Remus or you can kiss my arse, right?”

Snape raised an eyebrow at Remus. “If you insist. Highly irregular.”

“I do insist. And when have I been anything but?”

“You can call me Ron if you have to, but just... don’t talk to me. Unless you have to,” Ron said suddenly, without looking at Snape. Hermione ran her fingers through his hair.

“Alright.” Snape didn’t comment further.

Hermione leveled a long gaze across the room at him, her hand still gently soothing Ron’s bent head. “You may call me Miss Granger. I will let you know if I decide you’ve earned the right to my first name.”

Remus smirked and shot Hermione a less-than-subtle thumbs up. She scrunched her nose at him and then looked back down at Ron.

Snape looked like he swallowed a bug, but nodded. He glanced at me, and his lips twisted. “And you? What do you want me to call you?”

I opened my mouth and snapped it shut before the words “ _g_ _ood boy_ ” could escape. The truth of it rolled through me like a bell tolling, and I shut my eyes, the air leaving my lungs in a long hiss, feeling it like a punch to the stomach. I could feel his eyes on me, hot and dark, and I couldn’t look at him.

“Hm. Can he call you Harry?” Remus said, and I nodded. That question was much easier to answer. 

“And what should we call you? Since we’re being so proper-like?” Ron still hadn’t looked at him.

Snape twitch a little. “You should call me _monster_ , but you may choose to call me whatever you like.” I flinched at the tone of it, but I couldn’t say I disagreed. 

That he was a monster and I still wanted him to call me his good boy made me faintly ill.

Next to me, Brae flapped a wing and kicked, as if he was having a nightmare. I rubbed my hand over his head, and he sighed and rolled over, sticking his head under a pillow and going back to sleep. The sick feeling in my belly eased. 

“Poor little guy got really tuckered out, chasing me all over the cavern last night,” Remus said, and Snape opened his mouth and then closed it. Hermione narrowed her eyes.

“Veritaserum won’t compel you to answer, just makes your answer truthful. If you don’t talk, this entire exercise is pointless. You dosed yourself; we didn’t do it. Clearly you are asking for assistance in your own twisted way.”

His mouth worked for a moment, but he didn’t respond.

Her face cleared a little, looking over at him. That flame had sparked again, though it was a controlled burn, now. She sat up a little straighter, pulled her notebook out, flipped through it until she found the page she was looking for. “Yes and no questions are harder to fight, they say. So, Mr Snape, yes, or no: did you have something to add to Remus’s statement?”

Snape glared at her, and then bit out a terse “Yes.”

“... And?”

“It’s hardly pertinent to the matter at hand, Miss Granger.” 

“I find I don’t hold much stock in what you find important at the moment. Shall we play twenty questions until your willpower is so depleted that you have no say in what you answer, or are you going to get on with things?” Hermione’s face was pale, her pulse thumping in the hollow of her throat, but her voice was calm and collected, as if we were having a discussion about a difficult essay.

“Blimey, Hermione, you’re beautiful,” Ron said from beside her and she smiled at him and rested her hand on his knee. He gave her a lopsided grin and presented her with the extra pen he had apparently found in the cushions, and she leaned in and kissed his cheek.

She loved him, I realized, and I wondered when that had happened. He’d loved her for years, but then none of it had mattered, and it's not like we could have been any closer anyway. I waited for the jealousy to come, the pain of being left out, but I found myself only mildly wistful. I wondered if Snape was draining it away, and glanced over at him.

He was pressed back into the loveseat as far as he could go, jaw tight, looking out the window toward the fake beach as if he couldn’t bear the sight of them. I thought he was angry, but it felt more like pain.

“Sev, still? It’s still that bad?” Remus sounded terribly sad. He leaned forward, nudged Hermione with his foot. “I actually find you two adorable, but could you put a little space there? We are causing our guest considerable discomfort at the moment.”

“‘Guest’. Right. Droll, Remus.” Snape’s voice was tight, as if it could barely escape his throat. 

“Tell me again why I should care one whit if he’s uncomfortable?” Hermione said, but she moved away a tiny bit, crossing her legs under her. 

Ron looked at Snape, his eyebrow lifted.

“You’re allergic to _love_? That explains... a hell of a lot, actually.”

“I’m not ‘allergic to’ it, thank you. But I suppose it may explain some of my personality, yes.” Snape rubbed a hand over his face, looking annoyed.

“Severus has an old... injury, as it were. I had thought it would heal, in time,” said Remus, and Snape rolled his eyes.

“I was expecting to be interrogated about what the DeathEaters were doing, or about my presence here, or even called to task over my multitude of sins against your persons. Had I known you were going to drag up ancient history I would have written you a letter and be damned if you believed me.”

“Well, I guess it’s your turn to be mortified and choiceless.” She lifted her chin, daring him to comment. He did not, and her lips tipped up slightly. “Now then, back to Brae. What did you have to add to Remus’s statement, Mr. Snape?”

Snape’s face was caught between sour and admiring. “Persistence is one of your strengths, to my vast irritation. I was going to correct Remus, in that Brae is not tired from chasing him, he’s sleeping because I’m currently using him as a battery to maintain this form.”

I looked down at Brae with faint horror. “What?”

“Don’t worry, he won’t run out.”

“But... how?” 

“The same way he’s done any of this, Harry. Sensus.” Hermione tucked her feet under her, and flipped a few pages back in her notebook.

There was a pause, and I watched Snape watch Hermione nodding to herself as she looked at her notes. “Miss Granger, a word, if I may.”

Hermione looked up at him, and arched a brow at the nearly-respectful tone. “Yes, what?”

“I underestimated you. I often have. I’d say I won’t do it again but we both know my ego will tell me that a half-trained, muggle-born witch can’t possibly be as capable as we both know you are. I admit I was wrong when I said you were not suited to be Corvatica.” The words looked like they were made of toad bile, but Snape’s voice didn’t waver. 

Hermione looked at him for long seconds, and he didn’t look away. Eventually, she shook her head and went back to her notes. “I could tell you I’m just delighted you’ve determined I really was special enough to be in your little slave club, after all, Mr Snape, but we both know the truth of it.”

Snape looked relieved that she didn’t press the issue, but Remus jumped in.

“Ah, my turn. What’s Corvatica? You said you took their names when you made them Corvatica. I’m guessing it means more than ‘Property of Snape’.” 

Ron snorted. “We already know this answer. We’re his whores, Remus.”

Remus raised an eyebrow at Snape, who shrugged. “An oversimplification, but not fundamentally untrue. Although, I am compelled to add that I never collected any payment for you three personally, and, of course, I haven’t rented Remus’s arse out since the mid-’80s.” Snape’s lips twisted up into a familiar smirk.

I looked at Remus, expecting him to laugh, but a blush stained his cheeks. “Wait, really?” I said, and Remus looked at me, and then looked away, blushing harder.

“I could _not_ have called that,” Ron said to Hermione, who shrugged.

“Well, if he really is hung like a hippogriff I would see why he’d make money,” she said, and Remus’s ears went red, as well. She bit her lip, and looked at Snape. “Is he?”

“Hung like a hippogriff? More like a dire wolf. Bigger than any other I’ve ever seen, personally. And yes, he could have made a fortune had he gone pro,” Snape drawled. 

Ron laughed and then bit his lip. “Sorry, Remus.”

“Thank you, Severus, for reminding me of opportunities lost,” Remus said. “The relative size of my anatomy as compared to other beasts is currently irrelevant, I would say.”

“Oh, we made him use all his words, he’s flustered. Don’t like to remember those times, Remus? I quite like some of those memories.”

“Quit trying to distract us, if you please,” Hermione said sharply, and Snape’s head turned slowly toward her. She met his eyes squarely. “Again, you’re the one who thinks we need convincing of something. So quit. Distracting. Us. And get on with it.”

They looked across the rug at each other, a challenge of wills. The air in the room buzzed with tension. The hair on my arms stood up as Snape attempted to stare her down... and failed. 

Ron was right; she was beautiful.

Snape dropped his eyes first, sighing deeply and turning away. I felt a pulse of triumph and lust and admiration roll through the room, and I swear it came from all corners.

When he looked back, Snape seemed... different. Smaller. Tired. He folded his hands in his lap, then rubbed his palms on his thighs. “Yes. I... apologize. I am not often in a position where being open with information is healthy for me or my charges, and as you have pointed out, it is I coming to ask for your help, not the other way around.”

“Are you under the same kind of rules as Brae, that you can’t offer information?” Ron said, and Snape shook his head. 

“This would be easier if I could actually get drunk in this form,” he said, and it had no bite in it at all.

“Maybe I can get drunk afterward for the both of us,” I said, and he snorted.

“May we both be so lucky.”

“Out with it, Snape,” Hermione snapped, and he spread his hands, palms up.

“You’ve lost your honorific, Sev, I’d hurry up,” Remus said. “What could you possibly ask for that you think we’d help you with, with or without Veritaserum?”

Snape looked at the floor.

“I need you to take Harry back to Hogwarts.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sev, you bastard, if you stalled any harder somebody's gonna park a hippogriff in you.
> 
> A lot in this one. As usual, I'll probably come back in the morning and tweak my notes once the AHHHHHH from posting the chapter has worn off.
> 
> <3 you all. Thank you for sticking with me.


	14. Chapter 14

We all stared at him with varying degrees of disbelief, while he sat like a statue to the god of wretchedness on the pink flowered loveseat.

Remus was the first to recover. “Ah, I see, you’re insane. Well. That’s a problem, but we’ll get it sorted in a bit.” He turned away from Snape as if the conversation was over, gesturing for Hermione to hand him her notebook.

“Damn it, wolf, I am not insane!” Snape shot to his feet, fists clenched. In an instant Remus and Hermione were both standing, Hermione with her pen, Remus with curled hands and copper eyes, putting themselves between Snape and the rest of the room.

“You will LISTEN TO ME-” Snape roared, but I didn’t let him finish.

My world went ultraviolet, and whatever hold Snape held on my emotions melted like ice-cream on the sun. Anger surged out of my bones and drove me off the couch, the heat boiling out of my skin and running down my legs as I stood. My pajamas caught fire, cotton flames flaring bright yellow against the electric purple cascade pouring out of me.

Everything seemed to slow down.

I slid Remus and Hermione out of the way with a wave of my hand, the magic catching them as they fell and setting them down gently. I hurled Snape back into the loveseat with a lot less care, feeling the wood splinter against my shoulders as he hit the couch hard enough to break it. 

The pain only added to the burn, and I stalked toward him. He tried to rise, and I slapped him down again, pressing him to the couch with a boulder of self-loathing and fear, settling it down across his chest and letting it sit. He wheezed, face pale and drawn, eyes white all the way around. 

I stopped halfway across the burning rug, unable to make myself go any closer. Remus was getting to his feet. Ron scooped Brae off the couch and backed up, the Coraxis limp in his arms.

My pajamas turned to ash and flaked away, leaving me clothed only in running purple flames. 

Snape raised a hand, and I slammed it to the back of the loveseat. I longed for ropes and bared my teeth in vicious satisfaction as thin purple vines writhed out of the flowers on the godawful loveseat and lashed him down, digging into his skin and binding him to the cloth. He tipped his head forward, his hair falling over his face, and I clenched my fist at my side, and more vines grew, tangling in his hair and yanking it away from his face so that he had no choice but to look at me. 

“Harry-” he said, and I reached out with the magic pouring out of me and slapped my name from his lips. His head snapped to the side, pinioned hair yanking him back. His eyes watered. My cheek burned, and I could feel the handprint I could see coming up on Snape’s pale face.

“No,” I told him and used the vines in his hair to force his head back farther, baring his pale, unmarked throat. A thicker purple band slithered across his neck and pulled tight, digging into his skin.

He swallowed hard, straining, and the glowing puddle at my feet shifted, a tongue bulging out and snaking across the rug toward his feet. I snarled and pulled it away, slapping him again for trying. My head snapped to the side with the force of it, and I could taste copper and iron. My heart pounded. I hit him again, the blow catching him in the chest, and I wheezed, the air knocked from my lungs.

Snape’s eyes were screwed shut, the trickle of blood running from his split lip smeared by the purple vines creeping up his face. My ears roared with my thundering heartbeat.

“Don’t do this, Harry,” Remus called. I glanced at him without looking away from Snape. He was looking back and forth between the two of us; his face lit from below by amethyst sparks. He was trying to push forward through the wall of fire, but I easily stuck his feet to the ground with a thought.

The cabin was trying desperately to put itself out, the rafters growing a dense coat of mushrooms and wet green moss. Thick waxy leaves unfurled from the walls, the air going damp. Rain pattered from the ceiling, hissing as it hit the lake of fire pooling around me.

Hermione stood behind Remus, her pen clenched between her hands. She caught my eye, and her face was terrible, jaw clenched and eyes hard. She wouldn’t stop me, I realized. She wasn’t even going to try.

“Not worth it, mate,” yelled Ron into the roar of the fire. Brae gave an earsplitting screech, and I turned to see him awake and struggling in Ron’s arms. 

When I looked back, Snape was gone, the vines searching the empty air. I spun, looking around the cabin, which had grown vegetation lush and wild anywhere wood was exposed to the fire, which at this point was everywhere. An afterimage of his outline flashed with every throb of my heartbeat, leaving a ghostly history of his desperate search for a way out. I could see the leaves fluttering from the hot air escaping through the open kitchen window, and as soon as I thought it, the purple figure turned and headed that way.

“NO!” I bellowed and reached out and grabbed him, finding everything that was Snape and hauling it back to me as he fought wildly. The liquid fire around my feet began to boil, globs floating free of the puddle and flowing into the air, slowly merging into a glowing ultraviolet sphere in the center of the room. The purple torrent now flowed directly to it as if gravity had suddenly gone strange, falling horizontally from my face, pouring from my collar like blood.

 _// Please, //_ he said, his voice rough, desperate, _// I’m not_ finished _, they’ll all_ die _, you can kill me when we’re done, when they’re safe, I_ promise _, Modah,_ Harry _, PLEASE_ // and he opened up the link between us, as far as it could go.

I could feel Ron, and Hermione, and Remus, each a different flavor and texture, tied to Snape with a long black tendril. I had that tendril, too, but it was wrapped in thick white ropes, binding Snape to me instead of the other way around.

Brae was one-fifth of a gaping, empty hole to somewhere else, shaped like a bird. He hurt to look at, like staring at the sun. His connection to Snape was a neon, multifaceted river of soul-stuff, flowing both ways. A smaller tendril connected us, and touching it felt like swimming over dark water. 

Other threads spooled out from Snape, hundreds of them, thousands, all pulled by distance to a hair’s breadth. I could feel the Corvatica, thicker connections in the web, the shimmering non-spaces of the Coraxis. I couldn’t comprehend the network he was showing me. A whole thick strand of threads slid off into the dark, their endpoints murky and invisible.

I felt the truth of it; Snape was the nexus point. If I snapped those threads, it would be painful, for the other Corvatica and me.

But the Coraxis would die. All of them. Or perhaps they’d just... stop being. 

Whatever else Snape was, whatever he had done, or was doing, the lives of the Coraxis meant more to him than his own. He truly believed he deserved to die, but he couldn’t take them with him. 

He shut the connection, and it felt like going blind.

Snarling, I forced him back into physical form, building it from the blueprint writ in his soul-stuff. The ball of light in front of me pulsed with his heartbeat, drinking up everything that was pouring out of me. It swelled until nothing was coming out of me, the torrent drying up. The purple skin of it thickened, the light fading, the surface going dry and dull. There was a faint crack, and then the entire bottom dropped out, dumping a naked, unconscious Snape onto the charred remnants of the rug with a wet gush, along with what looked like ten gallons of iridescent slime. 

His skin was sallow, even for Snape. The thin chest rose and fell. His hair spread out in the slime like the tendrils linking him to all of us.

I panted, swaying. Remus was frozen, eyes wide. 

A jungle bird called, somewhere in the cabin. Another answered. The pattering of rain got harder. I could hear things moving in the trees.

A low rumble started vibrating my jaw, then built into a subvocal scream that was somehow louder than anything could be. I clapped my hands over my ears, saw Ron throw his arm over Brae’s head. Hermione had her thumbs in her ears, her mouth open. Remus fell backward, yelling something at me, but I couldn’t hear anything. The pressure built for a heartbeat that felt like nails going into my ears, and then the whole cavern rang like it had been hit like a bell. Everything vibrated, the birds taking wing from the trees in the cabin, the beleaguered windows shattering, the beach waves outside going flat.

When I could get my eyes open again, a man was standing in the kitchen, taking bottles out of a paper grocery bag. He was short, brown, wearing a shimmering green coat. A brightly colored bird darted down and landed on his shoulder. He smiled a little at it, rubbed a finger over its head.

“Well, Remus,” he said, his voice underlaid with the same sibilant hiss I remembered from my dream of London, “You should have told me the party was starting early. I stopped for supplies on the way.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY. Hot damn.
> 
> Sheesh, that took forever. Snape fought me the whole way on this one. :: brandishes pen at him threateningly::
> 
> Special thanks to sammialex and H for keeping my typos to a minimum, and filing down the rough spots. 
> 
> And thank you again to everyone who has been commenting along. You make me smile like a loon every time I get a ping. <3


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hold on to your butts, part 1.

In the few minutes it had taken for the ringing in my ears to stop and for the rain to put out the last of the flames, Brae had crept closer and closer to the kitchen, his eyes never leaving the visitor, so tense his feathers were flat to his head. His beak and eyes just peeped from the ivy now growing down the kitchen table like spilt tea, peering through the still growing leaves at the stranger. I could feel Brae’s certainty that the little man was a dire threat, though all I could see him doing was putting bottle after bottle of something into the icebox. 

Remus was talking to the man in low tones, gesturing at the rest of us with agitated little jerks. I tried to be more concerned, but I felt emptied of everything, numb and hollow. I half expected my chest to be a gaping hole, rimmed in glittering ice. My fingers found only my skin, slippery and wet.

The colors in the room seemed dull and faded. I managed to slide over to the charred couch. 

The cushion squished when I sat down. 

The pool of slime was still spreading, the iridescent swirls mesmerizing, the only bright spot of color in the room, other than the stranger’s weird coat. Everything was blurry, almost melting. I slumped, watching the eddies and ripples as Hermione slogged across the puddle, her legs covered to the knee in yellow galoshes. The bubbles kicked up by her footsteps rose slowly and popped, and I idly wondered if it was releasing some new kind of toxic substance. She paused halfway across, looking down at the crumpled form in the center of the rug. 

Snape lay wheezing in the slime like a bleached carcass spat up as indigestible, even by death. I watched his eyes twitch behind the thin skin of his eyelids. I wondered what kind of dreams he had. 

“Harry,” Hermione said, and I realized it wasn’t the first time. I blinked and looked up at her, wondering when she had moved. She looked like she wanted to touch my shoulder or sit on the couch, but clearly wanted less than nothing to do with the iridescent slime.

I raised my sticky hand to my face and peeled off my glasses. The melty glitter quality went away, and I realized that I was coated with the stuff, my lenses dripping with it, inside and out.

“... Ew.”

“To say the least. Are you alright?” Her pen was behind her ear. Somehow it looked threatening there, but I realized a pen had always been her weapon of choice anyway. Her eyes held mine, and I knew she would have stabbed Snape with it for me.

A flicker of warmth kindled in the empty place in my chest, and I exhaled, the frost starting to melt away. The slime suddenly fizzed like an opened can of pop and dissolved away into nothing in a few heartbeats. Hermione tensed but didn’t move. 

I heard Ron yelp as the rug bubbled madly.

“There now, much better,” said our guest, his voice warm and thick with an accent I couldn’t place, and Hermione turned. A blurry green and brown shape approached, and I stuffed my now spotless glasses back onto my face.

He stopped at the edge of the rug, dusting off his hands. His colors caught my eye like the glitter of the slime had. His tee-shirt was black, with a purple shell made of the letters SPWJ with a bunch of small dates underneath. I couldn’t tell how old he was, but the dates on his shirt were from the 80s. His hair was so black it had blue and purple highlights in it, flashing as he turned his head to survey the scene.

Remus slid out from behind him, and tried to pry a wooden chair out of the grip of the exotic-looking flowers growing over it. The man looked over and laughed, and the flowers let go, releasing the chair.

“Um. Yes. Thank you. I should make introductions.” Remus said, turning the chair around straddling the seat, letting the back hold him up as if he was exhausted.

“You think?” Ron said, and my lips twitched at his tone. The frost was cracking away from the empty place in me as he appeared behind my couch and dropped a bundle of fabric over my head. I sputtered but pulled on the massive fuzzy jumper with Hermione’s help, only then realizing that I probably shouldn’t be naked in front of... well, the new guy, at least. The jumper smelled like Remus, and the hole in my chest didn’t feel so large.

Hermione took the blanket Ron handed her and spread it over Snape’s frame, careful not to touch him. Satisfied, she tugged Ron’s hand and took a careful seat on the other couch, putting herself between Ron and the unconscious body.

The visitor looked around at us, tipping his head back and forth in a way that reminded me of Brae. He glanced at the remaining choices of seats: the destroyed pink loveseat, or Remus’s burnt and battered armchair, and shook his head.

“Poor old cabin is going to be mad at you, aren’t you, love?” He crouched and stroked the scorched wood, pulling his hand up slowly. A huge red mushroom grew from the wood, swelling up toward his hand like a dog wanting pets. He let it get about knee-high, and then gave it a little pat, and it settled down with a little swish of the white ruff around the foot-thick stem. 

The man sat down on the cap cross-legged and looked at Remus expectantly. “Well, go on then.” The mushroom sagged under his weight, and he patted it absently.

“You say that as if you’re easy to explain,” Remus muttered, but pulled himself together. “Alright, let’s start simple. Hermione, Ron, Harry, this is Zil. Zil, this is Hermione, Ron, and Harry.”

“And ...Severus, napping on the rug.” Zil gestured at the lump off to the side.

“Yes.” Remus looked uncomfortable.

“And who is that under the table?” Zil didn’t turn around, but I saw the leaves under the table shift as Brae jerked his head back in.

“That’s Brae,” I said, “He seems to be a little in awe of you, sir.” I wasn’t certain why I added the sir; Zil didn’t look to be much older than me... maybe? His face was hard to look at, my eyes sliding off to be caught by the flash of his hair or jacket. 

He didn’t... _feel_ like anything, and it wasn’t until his total lack of anything that I realized that I could still feel everybody else in the cabin, right down to the birds in the rafters. 

“Come on out, then, little one,” Zil said, and his voice rang through the air. I could feel the power in it, and I shivered, gooseflesh running down my arms.

Brae popped out from under the table and shot across the room to curl into my side, hiding in the baggy edges of the jumper and peeking at the man over a fold of it.

Zil tipped his head. “And where is the rest of you, Brae?”

Brae hid his head under my arm.

“The... rest of him?” I rubbed my hand over Brae’s back. He was shaking, I realized, and I tightened my grip on him, hugging him tight to my side. The image of the bird-shaped rip in space that was Brae through the bond wouldn’t leave me.

“That’s something you should likely ask Severus, once he joins us. Brae is one of his...” Remus trailed off, his brow furrowing as he searched for a word. 

“Offspring, I know. I can feel the shard of his soul burning away in there, like a tiny, angry star in a bottle.” Zil wiggled his fingers, imitating a furious bitty thing.

Hermione sucked in a breath. 

I looked down at Brae. He looked up slowly, meeting my eyes at last as if he was afraid I would push him away, fear and desperate hope radiating off of him. 

“Oh, hell, Sev, what did you _do_?” Remus murmured, his voice so sad I glanced at him. His hands were clenched on the back of the chair, his eyes locked on the damp lump on the rug.

“Godfather?” Brae said, and I looked back down at him. He had the gargoyle pendant in his hands, the top still shiny from where he must have licked across it. He fiddled with it, his feathers flat to his head, looking at me and then back down at it. He was waiting to see if I would push him away, I realized, and I didn’t care what the hell he was, he was still _Brae,_ still the peeping ugly thing that had grabbed my finger, still the ball of fluff and claws and that oversized beak taking up entirely too much of his head, still part of my little family. 

I pulled him into a hug, and the relief that poured from him was heartbreaking. When I could get my voice past the hard knot in my throat, it was a whisper into the soft ruff of feathers at his neck. “I don’t know what you are, and I don’t care. I don’t know what I am either.” I tried to make him feel it, pushing the lump of love and concern and fear and wonder across the tiny distance between us.

Brae lit up in my arms, the not-space he occupied in the weird _Other_ sense strobing and sparking like a downed electrical wire. I almost flinched away from him, but the memory of his fear was too fresh on my tongue, and so I just held on tight and hoped we didn’t burn.

I felt like I had hugged a lit firework to my chest. His little body was mostly still in my arms, but I could barely hold on to him anyway. The cold place in my chest filled up and overflowed, and I could feel the blue sparks start to crackle between my fingers. 

“Oh. I see why you called me, Remus,” Zil said placidly, and I looked over at him, my heart pounding. The current was building, tiny white forks of plasma jumping from the frame of my glasses to Brae’s glossy, blue-black feathers.

He unfolded himself from his mushroom seat, and it sprung back into shape as if he weighed a lot more than he possibly could. He padded across the charred rug which started to pull itself back together in his footsteps, the strands growing in his wake like a ripple. I watched him come, and _the_ _nothing_ of him had a shape in the halo of sparks, a shadow of something immense and sinuous, the purple flashing in his hair like the blue of Brae’s feathers.

If Brae had looked like a tear in space, Zil was the sunlight coming through the invisibility cloak. I tightened my grip on Brae when Zil reached for him, the hair on my arms standing up straight. The pulse of fear and protectiveness only made the sparks run faster. I clenched my eyes shut, trying to calm down, but it was like trying to fly a kite in a storm. I heard the crackle of electricity in my hair.

I felt a soft touch across my head, and the energy dissipated like the seeds blown from a dandelion head. The cabin groaned, the leaves flapping in the sudden gust of wind, birds taking flight again. The world shivered around us, the little bones in my ears beating like wings.

Zil painted a stripe down my forehead, calm flowing from his fingertips to trickle over my face. I took a deep breath and felt Brae do the same. The air smelled like bananas and lightning. 

I opened my eyes; for a moment Zil was a looping purple shadow backlit by a corona of emerald fire. My eyes watered as if I had looked into the sun, and then he was a man again, with his shiny hair and glimmering jacket. My eyes streamed tears, and I scrubbed my face across my arm, wincing. I heard him cluck his tongue sympathetically, and he patted my shoulder and moved away.

He was sitting on the mushroom again when I got my eyes open. Brae rumbled contentedly in my lap, his beak rattling, his eyes half shut. He had a smear of blue down the center of his beak, the highlight a vivid purple. 

“Not to be forward, but what the hell _are_ you?” Ron’s voice was high and tight. Hermione’s eyes were wide, her pen clutched in her hand, her notebook open on Ron’s bent knee. I wondered what all of that had looked like from their side of the room.

Zil hiccuped a laugh, and grinned at Remus, waving a hand. “Fiery lot you’ve picked up, Little Dog.”

Remus flushed and stood suddenly, heading to the icebox and grabbing a few bottles. He handed one to Zil, who popped the top off with his thumb and drank it down in a few long gulps, and then traded it for the full one. Hermione’s eyes narrowed, watching them.

“He’s not human,” Snape ground out, his voice like rusty nails. He had pushed himself up on one arm, the blanket held to his chest like a shield. His hair was plastered to his head, dried in stiff loops from where it had pooled on the carpet. “Not even close.”

We all jumped, even Brae, his rattling purr ending with a clack as his head popped up. I felt his desire to go, and let him, patting his back. The stripe on my forehead trickled serenity, cool and sweet, over the places that wanted to burn.

Brae shot across the rug and bowled into Snape, who collapsed under the sudden weight with a grunt. Brae checked him over, patting down his legs to make sure his feet existed. He tugged at Snape’s arm until he relented and pulled out both hands so Brae could count his fingers. He pushed himself upright again, setting Brae off to the side and tugging the blanket around himself. “Cease, fluffy goblin, I’m _fine_ ,” he said sourly, but he rubbed his hand across Brae’s crest.

“Nice of you to join us,” Hermione said, and Zil laughed again. Snape pulled himself into Remus’s chair with Brae’s help, collapsing like the move had exhausted him. He wrapped the blanket around his chest, but I couldn’t tell if it was for modesty or because he was cold. 

His hand twitched on the arm of the chair. “I will endeavor to be on-time more often, Miss Granger. Don’t take points, if you please.”

Ron snorted and then hid it as a cough as she glanced at him.

“We will see. In any case, now that you’re up, perhaps the three of you will enlighten us on what the bloody hell is going on?” Her pen flashed as she gestured at Zil. “You first. I think Ron had a decent question. You’ve said who you are, but that tells us almost nothing. Clearly, you’ve got some kind of knowledge of all this. Maybe you will be less frustratingly vague than Remus.”

The laugh that broke from Snape sounded like it hurt. “Good luck with getting him to be anything but esoteric. I never could.”

Zil tipped his head at Snape’s comment. “That’s because frustration was good fuel for you, Severus. Not everyone can run on spite alone.”

Snape harrumphed and said nothing.

“But point taken, I will attempt to be, hm, more direct. By your people’s reckoning, I would be classified as a ‘magical beast’, yes, Remus?”

Remus winced and shook his head. “Actually, you’d be a ‘Non-Being’, under current law.”

Zil laughed again. I got the feeling he laughed often. His face wasn’t as hard to focus on anymore. He was older than I thought, probably closer to Remus’s age than mine. 

“You aren’t listed,” Hermione stated bluntly, writing something in her notebook.

I saw Remus’s professor face light up. “Ah, how can you tell? Non-beings often are shapeshifters, are they not?” Zil waved a hand, and Remus got him another bottle from the icebox.

She frowned. “Poltergeists are almost always invisible; even Peeves is transparent. I refuse to believe you’re some kind of tame Dementor, and you’ve been this same form long enough that you can’t be a Boggart. Plus, you’re looking right at me, and I’m not particularly afraid of strange men on mushrooms. Therefore, you must be a being that is not listed.” She underlined something twice on her page, and tapped the pen to the page decisively.

“As usual, points to Hermione,” Remus said. “He isn’t listed as a non-being, mostly because of a lack of knowledge on the part of the magical community at large. He is listed as a beast, as he said.”

Ron’s face fell. “Now I’m confused again. I thought we were going for more clear, not less.”

Snape snorted in his chair, and feigned indifference when Remus shot him a glare.

“All your classification systems are stupid anyway,” said Zil. “You change them every few hundred years. Today I am a non-Being. A thousand years ago I was a God. A few years from now I will be science fiction. I have not changed. Yes, I am a shapeshifter, as your people call it. My full name is Huitzitzilcoatl.”

“You’ve gone soft,” Snape muttered. “That much information took months of work on my part.”

“Perhaps I merely enjoyed your efforts, eh? You were... quite desperate for information.” Zil’s teeth flashed in a quick grin, sharp and white, at Snape.

A faint smear of color appeared on Snape’s sallow cheeks.

Hermione suddenly got off the couch and went to the wall of bookcases, brushing aside leaves to look at the titles hiding underneath. Ron watched her for a moment, and then turned back, rubbing his hand through his hair.

“Alright, so, whatever you are, you clearly know what’s up with Harry, and all the...” Ron paused, face twisting as he searched for a word. “... eruptions?” he finished sheepishly, and scrunched his face at me in apology.

I shrugged. As good a word as any.

Hermione made a noise of triumph and pulled a large book from the shelf, hauling back to the couches with some difficulty.

“Yes, I believe I know what is happening, though I suspect that Severus will have to fill us in on _why_ it is occurring.”

Hermione dropped the book on the table with a bang, and Brae jumped and clacked at her. She flicked her fingers in brief contrition, then opened the book very deliberately, and looked at Zil.

“This book lists every magic beast in the known world. Before I trust you are being straight with us, I want _actual_ information. Instead of giving us the same half answers that Remus has been deflecting us with, how about you just show us in the book?” She slid it across the table toward Zil, and then stood, looking at him expectantly.

Snape smirked at Zil’s expression, caught somewhere between surprise and amusement. 

Remus laughed softly. “Better do what she says, Zil, she’ll not let it go otherwise.”

Zil flicked his fingers, and the pages of the book flipped themselves with a sound like birds taking flight. He snapped his fingers and it hopped, opening to a particular page and thucking back onto the table. “There, read away, Tlatimine.”

Hermione pounced on the book, hands pressed flat to the table, eyes eating the page in a few long moments. She looked up, face twisted in confusion. “You’re a quetzalcoatl. It doesn’t mention shapeshifting here, though. Nor that they are sentient.”

“Always with the ‘prove it’. Humans are so untrusting.” Zil stood and shook his whole body like a wet dog, his human form dissolving into a puff of green dust that blinded me for a second. I shook my head to clear it.

“Oh fuck,” I whispered when I got my eyes open, cold sweat breaking out all over my skin.

We were surrounded by the coils of a huge serpent, larger than could possibly fit in the cabin. They wound around the walls, pushed through the leaves growing on the rafters. I could hear the hiss of scales sliding across each other. I gulped and turned my head; the wall of serpent behind me was close enough that I could see a thousand versions of my slack jawed face reflected in scales as large as my hand.

Huitzitzilcoatl laughed, the sound coming from everywhere. The leaves shifted, and a serpent’s head as big as a horse slid into the space Zil had stood, knocking over the mushroom, Remus’s chair sliding across the floor with a squeal of wood on wood. 

He lifted his head off of the ground, the mane of purple and green feathers surrounding his head brushing the ceiling and the floor simultaneously as he flashed them like a startled bird. A slice of shell hung from a necklace of beads the size of my head, swaying over the table, knocking a cup to the floor.

Hermione fell back into her couch as the giant feathered serpent turned to her, tipping his head back and forth so she could see him. He hissed, the sound rolling up from somewhere down the hallway and my ears itched. “See then, little scholar? Just as I said.”

She recovered herself, and grabbed her notebook, looking up and then scribbling frantically. “Yes, thank you Zil. Very informative.” The end of her pen was shaking slightly. 

“How did I understand that, I’m no parseltongue,” Ron’s eyes were wide, scanning the seemingly endless loops of Huitzitzilcoatl coiling around us. He was white under his freckles, but his voice was steady.

The giant head tipped over at him, a flicker of a tongue dancing out to vibrate the air in front of Ron’s face. He swallowed but held his ground, not looking away from the face blocking out half of the room. 

“Ah, but I am not speaking snake tongue, Pecas.” 

“Oh. That explains it. Hey, _what_ did you just call me?” Ron’s frozen posture melted as his eyebrows dropped, flushing. “Hermione, what’d he just call me?”

“Uh...” Hermione seemed to be having trouble dealing with the... immensity of the creature in the room. I couldn’t take my eyes off the hypnotic gleam of the feathers; even though my chest ached for air, I just couldn’t seem to move. 

I saw Remus edging around the curve of Huitzitzilcoatl’s jaw, seemingly unconcerned with using a nearby loop of snake to catch his balance while he stepped over the tilted coffee table. He pushed his shoulder against the frill of feathers, and they fluffed and shook with a noise like bones against dead tree branches as the serpent rose to strike.

The fanged maw hinged wide, the gleam of teeth bright in the emerald nightmare trapped between Huitzitzilcoatl’s coils. The feathers puffed out again, a roar booming up from somewhere far away and getting louder and louder, echoing through the endless loops around us before arriving like a train directly into Remus’s face, blowing his hair back.

Everything was going blurry, but I couldn’t move.

A bony form slid next to me on the couch, and I clutched at his arm, my fingers denting the meat of his forearm, holding tight. His hand wrapped around my neck, and I suddenly could breathe again. Brae mantled his wings over both of us, his defiant scream in return lost in the unholy wall of sound.

Remus looked down the screaming maw of ancient horror and then reached up and smacked it sharply across the nose. “Stop it, you’re scaring them,” he said mildly.

The thundering roar guttered out into a monstrous drunken giggle, the long thin tongue lolling to the side for a moment before the green light shattered and everything went eye-wateringly bright.

Zil was sitting again on his mushroom, a bottle clenched in one fist. He rubbed his fingertips over his nose, still giggling. The image of the shell on his t shirt gleamed purple in the lights

“Glad to see that you haven’t lost all of your bite, Little Dog.” 

For a few long moments the only sounds were Zil’s faint giggles and the waves. I wanted to shake Snape’s hand’s off, but I couldn’t let go of his arm, and the press of his shoulder into mine was comfortingly sharp.

“Alright, well, that was exciting, eh?” Remus clapped, and I jumped. Snape’s hand tightened on my neck, a hum of amusement I could feel through the bond. 

“No offence, but I think I’d prefer our next holiday to be somewhere a little less exciting.” Hermione was pulling her hair back, twisting the just-long enough strands back into a bun. Her fingers swiped over her wet cheeks, and she took a breath, settling herself. Ron had his ‘trying not to say something’ face, and I wondered how long he could hold it.

I admired her resilience. I felt like I could break again at any moment.

Brae draped his head over the arm Snape had behind me, that chatter-purr noise happening again as he patted both of us, apparently satisfied we were safe for now.

“Yes, I should add ‘constant calamity’ in the brochure. You’ll have to forgive me.” Remus gave her a half grin, and she looked at him for a heartbeat, and then nodded.

“Thank you for indulging me, Zil,” Hermione said, and he raised his bottle in a drunken salute. “I find I have more questions, but we should get Harry sorted first, I think.”

They all turned to look at me, and I glanced away reflexively, only then realizing that Snape had not brought his blanket with him when he had come to my rescue. He saw my eyes drop to his lap and snickered.

“Come now, there’s not a person in this room that hasn’t seen me unclothed. That blanket is scratchy as hell. But if it will please your modesty, I can just pop back to the castle and pick up some robes...”

I rolled my eyes and knocked his hand away from my neck, half expecting him to not allow it. But he relented easily enough, resting his arm across the back of the couch instead. I could have moved away but I didn’t.

I told myself it was because all the other seats were ruined, but it was a thin lie. 

Ron finally couldn’t stop himself. “Is Brae really your kid? Did you tumble a thunderbird or -?” and Hermione’s elbow in his ribs cut off the rest.

“My _kid_? What nonsense have you been telling them, Remus?” Snape frowned, rubbing a hand over his forehead.

“That’s on Zil, not me,” Remus said, going to a coat closet and digging out a spare robe. “I wasn’t sure.” He handed the robe to Snape, looking away politely as Snape stood to pull it on.

“I did not say _child_ , I said _offspring_ ,” Zil interjected, snapping his fingers and causing a shorter mushroom to grow so he could prop his feet up. He finished his bottle and tossed it away, into the jungle that was rapidly filling the cabin.

“Ah.” Snape ran his hand over Brae’s head, careful not to touch the stripe across his beak, and offered no more until Ron grunted in frustration, throwing his hands up.

“All of you can sod off with this wordplay shite. Is he your offspring, or not?” Ron scowled. “That should be easy enough to answer.”

Snape rolled his eyes, and lifted Brae off of the back of the couch, settling him on the floor. I could feel Snape trying to figure a way out of the question as he buttoned up the robe, and when he sat down again, he had the haughty, distant scowl he had worn so often at school. He opened his mouth to say something biting, but was stopped by Brae’s hand, tugging on his robe. Snape stopped, looking down at the Coraxis nervously fiddling with his necklace.

“If they are to help with the Plan they will have to know of it.” His voice, through the gargoyle, was serious. He looked up at Snape, his dark eyes unblinking. “All of it. Nothing to do but fly.” Brae patted Snape’s knee. “It will be ok, you will see.” 

Snape glanced at the room, and saw how intently Remus was watching the exchange. He made a face at Remus’s bemused expression, and looked again at Brae, lips set in a hard line.

And then, to my horror, Snape’s fingers flashed to life.

:: They won’t agree, and I would have to explain... much that will only anger them once again.::

Brae opened his mouth to reply and Snape closed it with his other hand.

::Their objective is the same as yours, I don’t understand why you think they would not join you to be rid of them!:: Brae signed.

My heart thudded against my ribs, and I shot a glance at Ron and Hermione, who had frozen, their faces filled with the same realization; Snape had known the sign language all along.

I thunked my head against the couch, staring at the ceiling. Of course he had known. Brae leaned against my leg, and I tried to focus on the conversation, but their hands moved a lot faster than I could follow. 

Snape shook his head again. Brae grumbled and pecked the back of his hand, and all the air left him in a rush. “Ouch! Damnation, what was that for?”

Brae narrowed his eyes. “Tell. Them.”

Snape grunted, shaking his hand and looking away from Brae’s serious little face. After a long moment, he slumped, and rubbed his hand over his forehead as if he had a headache. “Fine, but if they hex us both out of existence, it will be on your feathered head.”

“Godfather would never do that,” Brae said confidently, and clambered up to sit on the arm of the couch next to Snape’s shoulder. I had the feeling it was to stay within pecking distance.

We all waited for long seconds, but Snape didn’t move.

Remus handed Zil a new bottle of whatever he was binging, and then brought Snape one, offering it by the neck. Snape snorted, and looked up at Remus, his eyes tired and pinched. 

“Makes things easier, sometimes. Tastes better than Veritasium anyway.” 

From his spot on his mushroom, Zil called “Hear hear, that stuff tastes terrible.”

Snape snatched the bottle and popped the top, taking a long drag of the thick red liquid. The smell of fruit and sugar hit me before the sting of booze, and Brae stuck out his bristle-tongue.

Remus sat on the sad remains of his footstool and leaned forward, clearly waiting.

“I... am not sure where to start,” Snape said, turning the bottle in his hands. “Telling people my plans is not...my way.”

“No shit,” I said, and he shot me a look, the edge of his mouth twitching. 

“You could answer Ron’s question, if you’re lost.” Hermione looked decidedly unimpressed with whatever Snape was wrestling with, and was writing in her notebook. 

“Ah. Fine, good as any other, though the simple answers you want tell you nothing.” He took another swig of boozy fruit punch, and swallowed it down, hard. “Yes, in the way Zil means, the Coraxis are my offspring. But no, in the way you mean, they aren’t my children.”

“Oh good, more non-answers. Was all excited there for a moment.” Ron rolled his eyes and Hermione hushed him.

“As I said, that tells you nothing. A technical answer about their nature as multi-dimensional creatures partially manifesting here due to their connection to my life-signature in this plane will likely make Ron’s brain leak from his nose, and so I will have to go with the closest, truest answer I can give.” 

I wanted to laugh at the jab at Ron, but the fact was I couldn’t make heads nor tails of what he just said, and it _did_ feel rather like it would give me a nosebleed if I thought too hard about it. Hermione’s eyes had gone very round, and Remus looked faintly awestruck, his eyebrows lost somewhere under the tangle of hair. 

Snape wiped his hand across his mouth. I could see sweat beading in his hairline, however calm and cold he sounded. “The Coraxis are the children of my soul.”

“But they’re _cute_... and there’s hundreds of them,” Ron’s voice was almost a squeak. 

The smile Snape shot at him was dark and hot, all teeth. “ _Thousands_.”

“But _why_ , Sev? You’re dealing in magic both forbidden and experimental on a level I couldn’t hope to imagine, let alone operate at. I have yet to meet another human with less interest in children than you. So _why_?” 

Brae crawled into Snape’s lap, looking over at Remus with his huge, dark eyes. The stripe of blue Zil had painted on his beak glittered against the faded black of Snape’s borrowed robe. His little hands fiddled with his necklace, his stick legs dangling over Snape’s knees. 

“Isn’t it obvious, Remus? I created them to kill the Death Eaters.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long! Snape ... really doesn't want to tell you anything. 
> 
> Chapter 16 in progress. Comments make me write faster 'cuz I know someone is waiting for it.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hold onto your butts, part 2!

Zil’s uproarious laughter almost drowned out the yelling. Brae and Snape said nothing, remaining on the couch when the rest of us shot to our feet.

I could barely make out anyone else’s words through the geyser of fear and outrage that boiled out of my chest, making my blood pound in my ears. My hands were curled into fists, my throat tight despite the breath sawing in and out of between my clenched teeth. Across my head, the stripe of calm Zil painted melted and ran into my eyes, burning.

Hermione was raging about child soldiers and Ron was listing everything he would do to Snape if anyone even looked at Brae, and Remus was in full angry lecture mode and my eardrums felt like they were going to explode. I felt sparks start to crawl up my spine, crackling in my hair. I stumbled back, away from them, knowing by now that I was a danger worse than whatever horrible Plan Snape had come up with.

Snape looked up suddenly, catching my eyes beyond the wall of accusatory arm-waving. His voice slid into my head, the heavy feeling of his hand across my neck, trying to ground me.

<Breathe, boy. Don’t let it overwhelm you.>

I nodded jerkily, taking a deep breath, but the sparks kept building, feeding on just my anger, but theirs too, drawing it in and adding to the coming flames.

“ENOUGH!” Snape roared, shocking the rest of them into silence. Ron and Hermione fell back, and Brae shot through the gap they left, launching off a footstool and colliding with my chest, his hand smacking onto my head just as the jumper I was wearing started to smoke.

Like venting a boiler, the overflow of energy rushed out of me, the pressure inside suddenly collapsing. Brae shook, clinging to my shoulder, his feet scrambling for purchase, scratching down my thighs. The pain centered me into my body, and I wrapped my arm around Brae, trying to stay upright.

Zil appeared at my side, steadying me with a touch to my elbow.

Everything smoothed out, the rush mellowing into a gentle stream, and I could feel the energy forking, the larger portion drawn to the immensity of Zil rather than the overflowing bucket that was the Coraxis. 

My eyes rolled back as I felt an alien touch drag its fingers through my mind, leaving a warm, sweet burn behind them. I arched, and Zil’s other hand cupped my shoulder. He held me up, somehow, and Brae pulled his hand away slowly.

“... Godfather?” he said, his voice close to my ear. I couldn’t respond, couldn’t open my lids. Zil’s touch was sliding deeper, finding the torn and hurting places, the parts that felt burned and raw.

I felt Remus pull Brae off of me gently, but Brae wouldn’t let go of the jumper, so Remus held him and stood close enough that I could feel the heat from both of them.

<Normally I would have asked first,> Zil said into my mind, his voice thick and sweet, <But I don’t think the cabin would appreciate being blown up again.>

Zil gently guided me backwards, and a chair rose up to greet me, soft and cool against the back of my knees. I fell backwards into it, grateful not to be standing anymore.

Zil’s hand slid from my shoulder to rest against my forehead, and then seemed to push, like he was reaching into my skull to scoop out my brain. It was only after the first handful of disorienting seconds that I realized his hand had not moved from where it rested against my head.

<Harry,> Zil said, and the way he said my name made me shiver, as if it was more than just my name, and his fingers stroked my head soothingly. <All of this has been done to you and around you and inside you, and you still burn so _brightly_.>

Brae’s mind was suddenly there, a sparking, vibrating note riding the heavy rolling press of Zil. He fought to be heard, pinging and flashing in almost-language.

Zil’s other hand settled on my belly, pressing hard enough to be uncomfortable. I felt his touch slide deeper, brush at the thrumming, sparking center of me, like his fingers were sinking through my flesh and touching my organs. 

<Ach, what a mess!> He brushed Brae’s little starlight away, shielding him from what he was doing. <Little one, let go, eh? This looks to be unpleasant.> Brae’s hand unlatched from my arm, his spark of starlight guttering out, and I shifted, whimpering. I heard Hermione’s voice, distant, unimportant, demanding to know what Zil was doing.

I reached for Snape without consciously deciding to do so, and heard Ron ordering him not to get any closer to me. Remus sounded like he had his hands full, but I had a hard time thinking about anything other than the careful, thorough exploration of those fingers.

“May I touch him?” Snape asked from somewhere next to my head, and Zil muttered an assent, shifting to make room.

The rough drag of Snape’s calloused hand down my neck and sliding behind my head felt so good I could have cried. Zil wasn’t hurting me, but I didn't have words for what it felt like, either. It felt like he was handling organs I didn’t have, or didn’t know I had until he pointed them out. 

<Shhh, just be still, he won’t take long,> Snape murmured into my head.

Having him there made it easier, made me feel safe, and I frowned at the realization even as I relaxed. Snape rubbed his thumb across the side of my neck, tracing the line of my collar, and I realized I trusted that he wouldn’t let Zil hurt me.

I could feel Zil’s faint surprise, and a smug warm pulse of ... something from Snape. <I promised I would take care of you,> he thought so quietly I was sure he didn't intend for me to hear it.

<When the _hell_ did you promise that?> I demanded, wincing as Zil shifted his palm, pressing just below my belly button. He tapped his fingers against my head in a clear ‘be still’ movement.

Snape paused and then pulled a memory up, pulsing a request to Zil to pause his examination.

I saw myself, kneeling on the rough grey stone, skin pale and unmarked, thin from my time in the prison camp. Hermione and Ron were unconscious, tucked into sleeping benches. Snape was draping the black ribbon around my neck as I twisted and yanked against the magic holding me. I could feel Snape’s reluctance, his horror that it had come to this, his bone-deep conviction that this was the line past which any mercy the world could possibly have granted him would be gone. 

Memory-me glared at Snape, fire and passion and hate blazing bright in my eyes. For just a moment, Snape’s mind flashed to Lily, her eyes blazing every bit as much righteous fire, promising to rain fire and death and destruction to whomever crossed her. I realized for the first time that the _color_ was not why people said I had her eyes.

_ <Damn my plan. And damn me, too.> _

I felt him gather himself, self loathing and determination wrapping like two iron bands around what was left inside him. His hand did not shake when he rested it on my head. 

_ <I declare my Name as Severus Tobias Pharmakos Snape.> _

“Harold James Potter, I hereby take you as my slave and strip you of your name until such time as you have earned one.”

_ <You are protected under this House, under my Name, by the laws of Magic and my Will;> _

“From now on you are a nameless body, an extension of my will made flesh.” 

_ <No scry will find you, no deed traced to you, no curse touch your flesh, that will not lead instead to mine.> _

“You will do what I tell you to do, say what I tell you to say.”

_ <Your transgressions are mine. Your consequences are mine. Your Name will remain blameless and unknowable for all time, on all Dimensions.> _

“Your mind, body, and soul belong to me. You are _Corvatica_."

I remembered the feeling of the collar sinking below my skin, felt the pain as each thread of the magic wove around my body. It had hurt, I remember the pain of it, but Snape felt at least that much, overlaid with terrible, black guilt. The threads wove us together deeper than flesh, spearing into these not-places inside of me and holding them open for Snape’s probing touch. It was like he was forcing unnatural growth of things already there, ripping instead of coaxing. 

_ <So say I.> _

The memory faded.

I had no words, could barely breathe. Fortunately, Zil seemed to have some for me.

<You have done a terrible thing, Severus. You bend the laws with your Intent, but every system will return to equilibrium. I can feel the wobble already.>

<I know that. It just has to stay stable until I am finished.>

<And the backlash?>

<Mine alone.>

Zil started moving again, edging around these torn places inside me.

<So why is this one so volatile, eh? The rest of your flock is sound enough, though your basement is full of slumbering unknowns.>

Guilt seeped from Snape, and … embarrassment? I got my eyes open, finally, and watched as Zil patiently waited for Snape’s reply. Snape was practically squirming, at least internally. Ron and Hermione and Remus were arguing in the background, but they still seemed blurry and unimportant.

Gritting his teeth like he was taking a bite of the foulest of pies, Snape looked up and met Zil’s gaze.

<Small miscalculation.>

Zil laughed, and it was unpleasant. <Ah, another little tiny error? We are lucky you didn’t blow a hole in him, then, Severus.> There was ... something thrumming between them. I tried to focus on it, pulling at the feeling, and with some resistance the memory reeled up from Snape’s brain. Snape’s hand on my neck clenched as he fought to keep it down, only to have Zil stop him _exactly_ the way Snape could stop me from moving.

<Don’t-> Snape started, panic flavoring the thought, and Zil flashed him a grin that was both ruthless and sympathetic, like a farmer about to drop the axe on a prized rooster, and let the memory play.

***

We were back under the club, in the weird flat room at the end of the stairs, but instead of seeing things through Snape’s eyes, I found myself an unseen, ghostlike observer, watching the memory instead of living it. Next to me were two glitching forms I could identify as Zil, and Snape, who seethed and pushed against Zil’s control of the scene. The room was empty, blank, but I could feel something looming, like a storm about to break. 

My head swam with multiple sets of senses, signals from my body on the chair in the cabin, my mind here, my own tangled emotions, and the two next to me pulsing with emotions that felt real enough to _be_ mine as they rolled through. I couldn’t process all of it at once, and I stumbled into the wall, staring at my feet. 

Zil watched me for a moment, and then clucked his tongue at Snape. <How you managed to teach them anything without the basics is a discussion we will be having later,> he said, and the light tone of it didn’t hide the promise in the words. 

He pressed his thumb into the center of my forehead and twisted hard, like he was trying to give me a friction burn. I didn’t move away, and he hummed approvingly. There was a faint tearing feeling, like peeling skin off a sunburn, and then I opened my already wide open eyes. 

The room looked very different now. The walls were covered with diagrams and Snape's crabbed handwriting, as well as Remus’s looping script. Bookcases and cabinets shimmered into view, though if I looked away they faded out again. And the entire back wall disappeared, leaving a bed big enough for at least five, with two pale sleeping blonds tucked up close. 

I felt my forehead, wondering if Zil had actually given me a third eye, and found only skin and my normal array of scars. 

<I don’t see what can be gained from this,> Snape thought, desperation leaking out of him, yanking at Zil’s control. <We are wasting time.>

<Shall I take your voice, then? You will be _silent_ and take what I deem you deserve.> Zil’s order carried an edge that shot straight through me, my stomach clenching even as my cock pulsed with interest. 

Snape fought for another few seconds, and then... _gave in_ , shame and anticipation burning through him, and bent his head.

<Good boy,> Zil said, the praise dark and loaded. Snape flared with black shame and fierce, sharp desire.

My knees hit the ground without any thought on my part, and I folded into the wait pose like water finding the lowest point; unable to do anything else. I felt drunk, my racing thoughts dropping like stupefied rabbits. Light pulsed out of me, golden and thick, and both Zil and Snape moaned when it rolled through their forms. They said nothing for a long moment, and I floated, not really paying attention to anything, content to wait.

<His submission is beautiful...> Zil said reverently, and Snape’s awed, wordless agreement wrapped around me like the twist of his fingers in my hair. Zil’s touch brushed down my spine, absorbing the gold light. He made a faint, sad noise, looking over at Snape. <...You don’t deserve it, I think,> and the disapproval hit Snape like a fist. He flinched away from me, sliding against the wall. 

I wanted to object, but what could I say? 

The door to the quiet room banged open, memory-Remus coming in backwards dragging a cart, trying and failing to stay reasonable as he sniped at someone in the hall. He buzzed and popped with energy, his hands moving in jerky little motions as he fought to get the cart over the soft ground and to the icebox at the side of the room.

Memory-Snape followed a moment after, arms full of paper bags, kicking the door shut, still arguing.

I gaped at them both. Not because they looked so young, or the muggle clothes, or Remus’s _mohawk_ which stopped me dead for a long moment, but because they were both _absolutely_ strung out on some kind of drug. 

I couldn’t figure out what they were saying over the clang of the bottles that Remus was stuffing into the icebox, almost as if their words were blurry, slipping in and out of being able to hear them, out of sync with the movements of their lips. I shook my head, trying to focus, and heard Zil snort.

<Ah, no use trying to wrap your brain about what they were on about; they both had the wrong answer to that problem anyway,> Zil sent. <Plus, their Blur is so patchy they look like one of those rubber monster movies, eh?>

Annoyance and then sullen confirmation rolled from Snape, but he didn’t put anything into words.

 _Because Zil told him to be silent,_ I realized, and another gush of thick gold lust pulsed from me. Zil’s amusement enveloped me like a friend’s arm over my shoulder, and I leaned into him, rubbing up on him like a cat. I couldn’t help it, he just felt _so_ _good_.

<As do you, cupcake,> Zil thought, his voice warm and smug.

Snape felt like he was in hell, and all of a sudden I realized he was jealous. Not of my place by Zil’s side, but by Zil’s comfortable spot next to me. 

<That’s the game,> Zil thought to me, and I could tell that Snape couldn’t hear it. <Our friend needs to come down a few pegs, and your easy submission to me is bruising his ego better than what I had devised. Willing to help?> He sent a wisp of his intent, and a good person would have refused.

I was not a good person.

I pulsed gleeful acceptance and wound myself up Zil’s side, supposedly so I could get a better view of the memory busily playing out to the inattentive audience. This close, he felt strange and powerful, and my passage left sticky golden fingerprints that started to run together as the playacting quickly became genuine desire. Touching him was like... eating chocolate, or that moment when the broom drops out beneath you and you fall for a second, or the sudden slash of nails across your back, or-

Oozing golden energy, I rolled my cheek against his shoulder. 

<Oh, you are a treasure,> Zil thought, dragging his fingers through a blob of light and rubbing his fingers together, watching it melt and run down his palm. He licked a finger clean, and Snape grunted and turned away.

All of Snape’s attention was on us, no matter that he seemed to be watching the argument. <Here, you’ll be able to see better.> Zil slid me down the front of him, settling me between his knees as he sat down against the wall, my back pressing against his chest. 

I knew we were trying (and succeeding!) to make Snape jealous, but Zil made me feel like purring, which I had done as an act but never _wanted_ to before. I could feel Snape’s ire, his frustration boiling under the stony face he was attempting.

Unable to help myself, I pulsed a tiny wave of insolence at Snape as I relaxed and leaned against Zil, finally paying attention to the memory still unfolding.

“I _told_ you already, I’m not going to help you try it. Your sums are rubbish!” Remus was brandishing a battered notebook. He had several earrings, in addition to the mohawk. My brain still hadn’t absorbed that all the way.

“Well if you’d fix them they _wouldn't_ be, so who’s being unreasonable now? I’m close, you bastard, you can’t just-”

“I can’t _what_? Refuse to help you cheat through this test so that you can spectacularly fail the next one? I can and _am_ , thank you very much. Do you think _he_ wouldn’t be able to _tell_?” Remus struck a pose, rolling the notebook and gesturing with it, his voice a broad imitation of Zil’s accent. “A _ma_ zing, Mendicus! You’ve finally mastered level one! Here’s level two, oh dear, you’ve managed to destroy the universe, naughty naughty!” Remus rapped the notebook against Snape’s nose like a bad dog.

Snape ripped the book from his hand with a snarl and hurled it against the wall, the binding coming unstuck and pages exploding in all directions. Remus winced as they fluttered down around them both. Snape stared down the chaos of his work, breath wheezing, hands fisted so hard I could hear the knuckles crack.

I couldn’t see memory-Snape’s face, but I could feel the tension from now-Snape ratchet up. 

Remus touched Snape’s shoulder, apology written all over his face, and Snape returned the olive branch with his fist. Remus ducked the swing and tackled Snape with a wild yell, toppling them into one of the now-you-see-it-now-you-don’t bookcases. They went down in a tangle of rage and elbows and knees. Remus fought _dirty,_ jumping on Snape’s back and yanking his head back with a handful of hair, rabbiting punches into his side. Snape grunted and rolled, smashing Remus against the tilted bookcase until he let go and drove his elbow into Remus’s ribs when he went for the hair again.

<Ach, I let this go on for a while, let’s see...> Zil said, and slid his finger through the air as if he was touching a windowpane, the memory speeding up until the two of them looked like tussling cats, their voices blending into an angry chipmunk wail. Books spilled from bookcases used as weapons, falling like heavy rain. Snape’s embarrassment grew, and I could feel his glare even if I couldn't see it. <Hm, there we go, right about.... here.> Zil lifted his finger, and the memory abruptly dropped back into normal speed.

They had fought to almost a stalemate, Remus sitting on Snape’s chest, one boot pinning an arm to his side, the other kneeling on Snape’s hair, but Snape had a hand wrapped around the back of Remus’s shirt, the neckline wound into a strangling rope, hauling Remus backwards over his bent knees.

Remus’s lips pulled back from teeth lined in blood, his face smeared with it. His eyes were shut tight, the long center part of his mohawk sticking to his face like a slash of blue ink.

“-blasted _suicidal_ _maniac_ ” he gasped, clawing at his neck where the shirt cut off his air, nails slipping on wet skin. He had strands of long black hair trapped between his fingers.

“- filthy dogboy _WHORE -_ ” Snape pulled harder with each word. His shirt had been ripped half open, and his eyes burned with rage, struggling against Remus’s hold every time he shifted to get a breath. 

Both froze when the air began to thrum, the books on the ground rattling, the bottles in the icebox chiming like tiny bells. 

“Oh shit,” Remus whispered, the fire of his anger blowing out like a candle. He tried to get up, tapping twice on Snape’s chest, and then tapping again when he didn’t let go. “Sev- come on, I gotta-” 

A shape moved on the bed, and one of them then nudged the other awake. Both were white-blond and pale as milk, naked save for a matching set of welts across their asses. I saw them snuggle for a moment before sliding into a beautiful mirrored wait pose at the foot of the bed, completely ignoring everyone else. I wondered if they could not see through the wall, or if they just didn’t care.

“No, really, let me up-” The thrumming was rising in pitch and volume.

Snape dumped him off his chest but held tight to the shirt, shifting to kneel on Remus’s thighs. He snatched at the strip of hair at the back of Remus’s head, using it as a handle to pull him back farther. The shirt caught tight around Remus’s throat again, and Snape fought to hold on as Remus bucked.

“What’s the matter, I thought losing was your _thing_ , now?” Snape huffed as the buzzing in the air rose out of hearing range, and clamped his eyes shut at the last second as the air ripped and the room was flooded with blinding white light. 

I could see a shape approaching in the brightness, and a sinuous green shadow resolved into a rather larger than expected Zil as the light faded. “Godskolere! The _fuck_ is going on?” 

Everyone froze for a long moment as Zil took in the scene.

I blinked at the arms ropy with muscle, the thick tattoos winding around his muscular chest. He looked like he could break me over his knee without any magic at all. The smaller, lithe Zil currently stroking his fingers down my arm hummed and leaned close to my ear. <Mm, you like that, do you? I’ll have to save that knowledge for later, cariño.>

A thrill shivered through me. By rights, I shouldn’t want to be touched ever again, let alone by whatever Zil was. No one normal would be filled with this much giddy lust when the giant unknowable magical being blazed with unmistakable hunger when it looked at them.

I waited for that horrible shame to flood me, but I couldn't manage it. It just seemed so stupid to care, at the moment, what a normal person would have done. Normal people just didn’t end up in situations like this.

Memory-Zil folded his arms and looked disappointed. “Boys. Why are you fighting this time?”

Remus looked abashed, but Snape just glared at Zil and yanked harder at Remus’s hair. His eyes still burned, his face blotchy red and bruised purple.

I saw Zil’s eyes narrow. “Let him go, Mendicus,” he said, his voice hard.

“That is _not_ my _name_!” Snape growled, but he dropped Remus on his face and stepped to the side, sagging against the wall to catch his breath. Remus sucked in air, yanking his shirt away from his neck and coughing into his elbow for a few seconds.

And then he pushed himself up and slid into a shaky wait position, blood dripping from his nose onto his ripped denim trousers.

I gaped, as surprised by his pose as the mohawk. Even seeing the two blonds kneel hadn’t made me realize the extent of how well Remus knew Zil.

Now-Snape snickered at my reaction. <Never pictured saint wolf on his knees? I can assure you, he’s spent a lot of time there.>

<Tsk, and you had been doing _so_ well.> Zil snapped his fingers, and I felt him take Snape’s voice, as easy as turning off a light.

<?! **!!** > Snape thought furiously, and I turned to look at him over Zil’s shoulder. His eyes burned behind the rubber bit between his teeth, buckled around his head with a green leather band. He flicked his fingers, but I didn’t get anything from it, which was confusing. He wasn’t signing fast, but I couldn’t understand him at all. 

Zil shook his head, still watching the memory. <You think I can’t mute you in every way? You have grown fat on being the only fish that can fly, I think. Now stop distracting him, he’s supposed to be watching like a good boy.>

I snapped my head back around, guilt flickering orange and icy across my form. Zil rubbed his forearm across the back of my neck soothingly. 

Memory Zil was just finishing wiping blood off Remus’s face with what looked like the remains of his shirt, crouching in front of him, making sympathetic noises at the bruises and bumps. Remus’s eyes were closed, and I could feel the tension in him draining away with every stroke of Zil’s large, blunt fingers against his skin.

“You are a mess, Little Dog,” he said, and the fondness in his voice made Remus’s lips twitch. “Did you at least stock the fridge before you fell to infighting?”

Remus nodded, and Zil patted him on the head. “Go and fetch me a few bottles.” 

The grace that Remus had rolling to his feet was ruined when he stumbled on Snape’s exploded pages. Snape grunted and stooped, gathering the pages closest to him.

Zil frowned. “How did you manage that, anyway?” He spun his finger slowly in the air, and the pages fluttered up like butterflies, sorting themselves, the few in Snape’s hand tugging free and slipping into place. A cover folded itself out of nothing, a little clasp reaching up from each side and holding tight. It floated gently toward Snape, who snatched it and held it against his chest like it might try to get away. 

Remus appeared with two bottles, and Zil took them with a warm smile. “Go let the Lovebirds practice their healing on your face,” he said, and Remus grimaced. “Oh, you’ll be fine. I’ll shrink anything they swell up.” With a final glance at Snape, still clutching his notebook, Remus walked to the flickery hidden wall and ducked through it. 

“Well?” Zil walked forward slowly, popping the top of a bottle and taking a long drink. He licked his lips, making a pleased little noise.

“Well what?” memory Snape said waspishly, trying to button his shirt and finding half the buttons missing. 

“It’s the solstice.”

“Mm hm.” Snape pulled at his ruined shirt again. Next to me, now-Snape was watching his past self with a weird intensity, his arms wrapped around his body, radiating a mix of anticipation and dread that made my heart beat faster. His teeth were grinding into the bit.

“We agreed that you had until Midnight tonight to demonstrate the mathematical principles needed to proceed with training.” Zil’s voice wasn’t harsh, which I could tell was making it much, much worse for Snape. “It is a quarter to Midnight. Another 15 minutes of sums won’t matter one way or the other.”

They were very close together now, and I had a perfect view as Zil leaned into Snape’s space, gently tugging the notebook from his hands before stepping back. “Shall I run your algorithm?” He unclasped the book, and started to open it.

Snape took a deep, gulping breath, and choked out, “Wait.”

Zil looked over at him, eyes bright. “What was that?”

“Don’t... don’t run it.” Snape wheezed a laugh that sounded like it tore through a few organs on the way out. “It’d probably blow up the universe.”

Zil hummed, and closed the book without looking at the contents. “So you are giving up?”

Snape’s head dropped backward into the wall, his tangled hair falling away from his bruised face like rain. “You know I can’t.”

Zil’s smile was sad and proud. “So it will be my way then.”

“You’ve left me no choice.” 

“Ah, no, that is fundamentally untrue. You could turn and walk out of here, and I would not stop you. I wouldn’t even try to stop you from gaining the knowledge from some other teacher.” Zil spread his hands, gesturing widely at the door.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “There are no other teachers, you pompous ass.”

Zil laughed, and shook a finger at Snape. “That is true, but beside the point. There is always a choice.” Zil wiggled his fingers, and a large, soft chair pushed itself from the softness of the floor. He sat down with a grateful sigh, relaxing back into the plush comfort. He watched Snape for a long minute, his eyelids slowly lowering. 

“You were so adamant that my way was impossible for you that I had decided you would give up, rather than bend.”

Snape looked at him sourly. “You knew I wouldn’t be able to solve that proof.”

Zil laughed again, nodding. “Don’t feel terrible, it will be another twenty five years or so before anyone on this plane manages to repeatedly demonstrate anything higher than the 4th dimension with either arthimancy or mathematics. You have an exceedingly bright mind and your dedication to your goal is borderline fanatical, but even you can’t make that jump in a few months, no matter how hard you push yourself.” He saluted with the bottle, draining it in another few gulps and tossing it over his shoulder, grinning with child-like glee when it shattered against a bookcase.

Snape’s eyes closed, pain creasing his forehead. He looked exhausted, the bright red and purple of the new bruises overlaid on blue shadows under his eyes. “Why, you damnable creature? Why give me a task you know I can’t do?”

Zil clucked his tongue. “Because my way is the only way I know how to give you what you are asking for, and you didn’t want it that way. I am not keeping the knowledge from you because I enjoy seeing you struggle, Severus.”

The use of his name made Snape open his eyes, looking over at where Zil was sprawled, powerful and comfortable in his plush throne. “You liar, you love to see me struggle.”

Zil snickered and shrugged. “I will admit that your staunch unbending will is a challenge that I have a hard time refusing, but honestly, if you cannot do the math, I cannot teach it to you. I don’t _use_ the math.”

“Some all powerful demigod you turned out to be.”

“Ha! Indeed. Come here, Severus. Dread is rolling off of you. You’ve seen me with the Lovebirds, with Remus, you know I won’t harm you. Why, after all the things I know you have done, was this the line you could not cross?” 

Snape pushed off the wall and walked over to stand in front of Zil like he was going to his death. He rubbed his palms on his shirt, and then took a breath. “I... I don’t know that I can give you what you’re asking of me,” he finally said, his hands curled into fists. He forced them open again, tension in every line of his body.

Zil flowed up out of his chair and circled Snape, just far enough apart that the static between them made the hair on the back of Snape’s neck stand up. He shivered, breathing a little harder. Zil hummed, finishing his circuit. “I’ve felt your lust. I’ve smelled your seed on Remus more times than I can count at this point. I’ve watched you sit, face unmovable stone as you read one or another of my books, while I take him apart five feet from you, two feet from you, across your desk. I’ve seen the sweat run down your neck, felt your racing heartbeat.” 

Snape’s eyes slid shut, and he swallowed hard. “It’s not the sex,” he said, his voice thin.

The shadow from Zil’s hand fell against Snape’s neck, but he didn’t touch him, ghosting his fingers over the thumping pulse at the base of the sallow throat. “Afraid of the pain, hm?” 

Snape shook his head. “You know I’m not.”

“Tell me then, what are you so afraid you cannot give me?” Zil’s voice was soft, so gentle. Snape was trembling now, his shoulders so tense I could see the muscles twitch under the thin black shirt.

For a handful of seconds, Snape looked like he couldn't speak, but he finally took a shuddering draught of air. “I don’t know that I can submit,” he said, his voice raw.

Zil laughed, delighted, and slid his hand into Snape’s hair, clenching tight at the base of his skull and pulling his head back. Snape yelped, fighting the hold for a second before dropping his hands, his breath wheezing in and out of his lungs. Zil hummed and kicked the back of his knees, and he went down hard, Zil’s hand never leaving his hair as he was forced into a kneel.

“Oh, Severus, you already have.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :: opens the floodgates of info::
> 
> Thoughts? Reactions? I sort of wish we could have gifs on here, I'd love to see you gif reactions to this chapter.
> 
> Sammi saved you all from my frequent problems. And my eternal gratitude to H. for her constant reassurance and cheerleading.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hold on to somebody else's butt for this one.

Snape yanked his hand from my neck, breaking the connection, the memory sliding away from me like a rug being pulled from under my feet. I jerked in the chair like I was dreaming of falling, my legs kicking. Zil still had his hands pressed hard against my stomach and forehead, but my twitch didn’t move him at all; it felt as if I had thrown myself against a statue. My glasses almost tumbled off my face as I rebounded into the cushions, and I pushed them back onto my face fuzzily. Snape’s shoulder was all I could see, turned away from me.

“Easy, easy,” Zil murmured, and I looked up at him, my heart racing. “I had intended that distraction to last for a few more minutes at least, and I cannot stop at this point.” He twisted his hand, and I grunted, feeling full to bursting, his touch far deeper than the physical press of his fingers. Whatever he was touching shifted, like a loose tooth.

“Going to have to be a brave wee beastie for a little while, yes? I can almost...” he pushed again, his brow furrowed. Whatever he had been touching suddenly gave way, and he abruptly sank past his elbow into my stomach, his flesh sliding through mine with a shower of violet sparks. 

I screamed. I could see my skin, whole and sound, through his bicep. His touch didn’t hurt anywhere that bled, but I fought to get away, arching, forcing his arm deeper even as I tried to escape. Everything tilted, spinning like a wobbly top. I felt my whole existence compress down into a single point, pressure stabbing at my ears, flattened my lungs. Zil froze my muscles with a thought, but whatever he was trying to grab slid farther from his grip, rolling away as I tumbled. 

“Get over here and hold him,” Zil snapped, and Snape’s hand slid back around my neck. I could feel him take over keeping me from thrashing, and I was desperately glad to have him there. I was still spinning, but he gave me a point of reference. A single point, but it was something.

I heard Ron and Hermione yelling, and a fleshy thud drove a pained grunt from Remus. Ron’s hand closed on my ankle a moment later, and I had two points, a lifeline stretched in the whirling blackness. 

There was an almost audible click as Hermione completed the circuit, her small fingers gripping my other ankle hard. The spinning came to an abrupt halt, the three points grounding me, holding a place still between them. I couldn’t move, but sent a wave of dizzy gratitude.

“Oh, yes, that is perfect. You hold him just like that, and I’ll... arg, Little Dog, come here, I need a generator.”

A warmth by my arm, and Remus’s scent and worry rolled over me all at once, pine and iron and sour fear. I felt his hand slip into mine, holding it as carefully as a baby bird. His point blinked into existence, and I could breathe again, suspended in the space created by their lights, whatever Zil was doing locked away.

Remus took a deep breath, and my ears started itching madly. His point inside me began to glow, flickering like a lightbulb. Zil started pulling the extra energy away, the buzz in my ears fading. 

“Sloppy, but it will do for now. If you would put a little effort into it, perhaps-”

Remus nodded, and I could feel it when he set his nails against the skin of the arm holding my hand, felt him bracing himself for the pain.

< No, don’t, please, > I pushed at him, and I could tell Ron and Hermione could hear it by the way their hands jerked on my leg. < Don’t hurt yourself for me, I... please. >

< Dwt, it’s fine, I heal fast, pain is the  _ quickest - _ >

< Doesn’t have to be pain, right? Zil? Not like that? > Hermione’s thought was bright and loud, and I felt the hands on me twitch. < New at this, sorry > she thought, softer.

Zil was so deep into whatever he was doing inside me even his thoughts sounded distracted. < Honestly I was expecting him to jack off, since he’s considerably more powerful that way. Unless you’re willing to do serious damage, I’d have to insist on letting Brae help, as he’s shrilling to do from his room. >

< No! I’ll do it, just... > hesitation bubbled off of Remus, and I grabbed at the feeling in frustration, yanking it open without meaning to, spilling a jumble of desires and fears and worries into the shared space. 

I could almost see the glance between Ron and Hermione, even without my eyes being open. The space between their points vibrated faintly before they both turned their gaze on Remus. 

“Very nice, Harry, emotionally expose him, that’ll get him in the mood. Lupin, you’re forever a moron.” Snape’s mockery was tempered by the fondness I could hear in his voice. “You’re afraid you’re going to violate  _ them _ ? If I’m not mistaken, you’re the one about to be ravished.”

Hermione transferred her hand to my other leg, never letting go of me entirely. “Tell me no, and we’ll stop, ok?” Her voice was gentle but firm, like she was afraid he would bolt. I heard Remus swallow hard.

Clothing rustled, shirt buttons coming undone.The flickering in Remus’s starlight stopped, the energy going gold and thicker. I heard her murmur to Ron, and he shifted so that his hand was on top of Remus’s grip on my hand, holding both of us. 

“Oh god,” Remus whispered, and his star roared with light. 

< Ah, much better, thank you. > Zil drained the energy away as fast as Remus made it, turning his blazing point into a comet. 

I heard a wet pop, and Ron made a hungry little noise that quickly became muffled again. Snape oozed smugness as Remus started to whimper.

“They haven’t even touched your monster cock yet, and you’re halfway gone,” Snape said, his voice lower than before. I knew what came with that tone. Remus got a breathless chuckle half out before it ended in a yelp, his light throbbing a few times before evening back out, brighter again. 

“Criminey, you weren’t kidding.” Ron sounded both delighted and awed. A belt buckle jingled. There was the sound of a zipper, and a shocked little exhale.

Hermione just said “Well then,” her voice small and stunned. 

“How d’you even work this thing, my hands aren’t big enough.” A pause, in which Remus made an entirely undignified noise, and then “No really, how do I get it out? You’re trapped halfway down your leg.” I felt Ron shift, kneeling, his hand still holding tight to mine on the arm of the chair, yanking at Remus’s trousers with his free hand.

“Sweet mary mother of god,” Remus yelped, his glow suddenly strobing gold and ultraviolet as Ron jostled something. The pain only made Remus glow all the brighter.

Hermione tisked. “Now, now, you’re always impatient. Here, help me.” A soft fabric thump, and the sound of Remus’ belt hitting the ground. “Step out, please,” she said, her voice going schoolgirl prim. I could feel the burn of triumphant lust when Remus shifted to follow her request.

**< While I am entirely enjoying this, I actually need him quite a bit closer to the edge if I’m going to seal this bleed before it attracts a scavenger. >** Zil thought to all of us, his voice strange, resonating against the inside of my skull. 

< I’m bleeding? > I thought, just at Zil.

**< Not with blood. > ** he sent back to me.

Well, that didn’t sound great at all, but I didn’t feel worried. 

**< That’s because you can’t feel ** **_anything_ ** **, at the moment. It wouldn’t be... useful. >**

< Oh. >

**< Just a little bit more, and then we will have to speak to Severus about how the hell you ended up with two copies of your soul. >**

< ...oh. >

Zil shifted his attention to me a little more.  **< You know something. >**

< I think so. But I want him to explain. I barely understand... anything. >

Amusement, and then Zil turned back to whatever he was doing. 

**< Severus, I need your assistance. Can you manage both? > **

Snape hummed an assent, and I felt him go still, distant, though his hand still held tight to the back of my neck.

“Hm, can’t let go of Harry,” Hermione said, and then there was a confusing shuffle of hands. “Doesn’t have to be hands, just gotta keep them touching.”

Remus kept a stubborn grip on my hand right up until they dumped his naked arse between my calves on the footstool, laying him backward along my thighs. He was tense, trying to make sure he didn’t get in Zil’s way, still nervous that he was doing something wrong. His skin burned against mine, bright and hot and so,  _ so _ alive.

< I do think it’s entirely unfair that you get first crack at him. > I thought. < I saw him first. > I put as much affection as I could into it, wishing I could brush my fingers through Remus’s hair. I felt him sigh and relax as if I actually had, rolling his head on my hip.

“I have sudden sympathy for the last slice of pie on the table around you three.” Remus said.

Ron laughed, and I felt him shift so that he was kneeling between Remus’s legs, his arms sliding up my shins as he leaned in. “You can’t just  _ call _ dibs.” 

The noise that came out of Remus when Ron licked a stripe up his cock made both Hermione and Snape tighten their hands on me.

“Gotta lick it to claim it. Them’s the rules,” Ron’s voice had gone husky. 

“Well, in that case,” Hermione said, and Remus whimpered even before she got her mouth on him, her fingers lacing into mine and holding tight as she bent over the arm of the chair, the soft weight of her breasts pressing into my legs. 

“Hey, at least share!” Ron leaned in again.

Remus went from a comet to a supernova, blazing with so much energy everything vibrated to the same beat, catching all of us in the flood, his head arching back against my ribs. 

**< AH! Almost perfect, just a little closer. > ** Zil pulled harder on the energy, twisting it together. A second tail formed as Snape started to do the same thing. 

Remus shook his head against my stomach. “Careful... too close. Can’t-.”

< ...Miss Granger, if you please, > Snape thought, and offered to show her ...something. I couldn’t understand what it was, but she took it, only hesitating for a moment. 

“Oh. OH. I see. That  _ is _ useful, thank you. Hmm.” I hadn’t heard that little laugh of Hermione’s in a long time, and she pulsed a little wave of affection at me, with a hint of a promise tied around it like a bow. 

Snape’s hold on the energy rope faltered, pain rippling through him, and I felt him try to focus harder on what he was doing.

**< Mach schnell! Now please. >**

Hermione  _ twisted _ energy, and Remus moaned, low and filthy, as she wrapped her will around his cock, cinching it tight. I felt his legs sag open, his hips lift off the seat, and heard him escape Ron’s mouth with a wet slurp. 

“There, now you  _ can _ ,” she said, her voice dripping like molten sugar, sweet and searing. 

Ron moaned against the seam of Remus’s thigh, and I felt one of his arms slide between his legs, hand wrapping around his cock.

She tisked, and twisted again. Ron yelped, and she patted his cheek. “There, now you can too.”

His starlight began to pulse in time with the slow pulls, and the ripples sent Remus higher, like waves rebounding from the edge of a pool. Where Ron’s ripples rolled across him, the energy bent, focusing like a magnifying glass into a plasma-white arc.

**< YES, hold him there until I say so. >**

“HolyFUCK-” Remus managed, but it dissolved into incoherent moaning as Hermione and Ron found a shared rhythm, slowly syncing up until all three moved together like parts of an engine. Hermione controlled the speed, her hand sliding into Ron’s hair and holding him tight against the base of Remus’s cock, slowly grinding her hips against the chair.

I could feel a warm, bright swell of pride from Snape as Hermione and Ron worked Remus between them until he was shaking, his hair wet with sweat, his hips churning, seeking the last bit that would send him over. They teased it just out of his reach, waiting on Zil’s word.

Time seemed to slow, shrink down to just the handful of us in the entire universe.

Remus’s voice started to go hoarse, the drops running down his face slowly becoming more tears than sweat, exhaustion teasing at the edges of his light. 

All of a sudden I was dumped back into my body, Zil pulling his arm out of me with a jerk. I gasped, arching, forcing Remus’s cock deeper into Hermione's mouth. Every sensation I had been missing flooded into me like blood into an untied hand, and my cock went hard so fast it hurt. I moaned, my hips thudded back into the chair.

Remus turned his head and panted, open and wet, against the side of my cock, and I writhed, half waiting for the sparks, moaning further when I burned in an entirely normal way.

Snape’s hand tightened on my neck as he came back to himself.

I grabbed my cock and stroked it hard, my fingers bumping Remus’s lips. His moans made my toes curl. 

“Any time, Miss Granger,” Snape murmured, and I got my eyes open just in time to see her grin as she undid the binding spell, holding Ron’s mouth down around the fat head of Remus’s cock with her hand on the back of his neck, the other busy between her thighs. Ron caught the first spurt from Remus’s cock in his mouth as she found her orgasm, pulling him off just far enough to watch Remus paint his face with stripe after stripe of come.

Ron shook, come splashing against my leg.

I moaned again as she leaned close and licked Ron’s face clean, and she looked up at me, her cheeks flushed, her mouth swollen and shiny with Remus’s seed.

“Come, Harry,” she ordered, and I obeyed helplessly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY the smut came back!


	18. Chapter 18

The shower rumbled gently in Remus’s room, the endless hot water more useful than ever. Across the clearing, I could see the shadows in Hermione and Ron’s cabin as they cleaned up and got dressed.

I shook wet hair out of my face and went back to making lunch. Hermione had demanded a “pause in calamities” for provisions, and I had escaped to the kitchen after my shower to make food, rather than sit in the main room with Zil and the endlessly pacing Snape. Unfortunately, the cabin just wasn’t that large, and I could feel their eyes on me as I washed and chopped vegetables. Brae helped, handing me things in companionable silence. After a few minutes I lost myself in the task, finding oil and vinegar and mustard, digging out breads from the deceptively small breadbox, and finding a stash of cheeses in the icebox, next to a truly dizzying array of bottles. 

The leaves had mostly retracted into the rafters, the vines growing backward slowly, the flowers rolling themselves up and tucking into their buds like children bundling against the cold. 

By the time Remus appeared, damp and presentable, I had a decent cold luncheon out on the table, and he saved me from having to break the tension in the living room by ruffling my hair and grabbing a bowl and helping himself to a large portion of everything, including the entire half wheel of cheese I had put out. 

He shrugged when he caught my look, already stuffing a roll into his mouth. It took him a second to finish it, and he was moving to the icebox. “Expended a fair bit of energy, earlier,” he said sheepishly, fishing a few bottles out and handing them to me, and then leaned farther in and pulled out a cold roast chicken I hadn’t even seen. 

He pulled the chicken into quarters, and stripped it down to the bones with his teeth in a few terrifyingly efficient moments. I handed him a napkin as he was licking the grease from his fingers. 

“Thank you, Dwt,” he said quietly, though I noticed he finished licking the last of the chicken off his fingers before wiping them.

“What’s that mean, anyway? You’ve called me that a couple of times.” I grabbed a few rolls before he ate them all, setting them aside for the others.

“Mm? Oh, it’s Welsh.” He ate another roll, and tore off a hunk of cheese, chewing it innocently when I squinted at him.

“And? What’s it mean?” I leaned my shoulder on his, supposedly to get him to move so I could snag cheese. “You wouldn’t stall if it wasn’t embarrassing.”

He hummed and nodded, wrinkling his nose. “Means ‘cute little thing’.” I pulled a mock-outraged face, and he snorted a laugh around next mouthful. 

“Meh, I’ve been called worse,” I said, and his face fell. “Ah hell, don’t get all guilty on me right now, it’s only half past two and it’s already been a hell of a day.” 

He set his plate down and pulled me into a hug, simple as that. I sighed, relaxing against him, feeling better than I had in a long time. He didn’t seem to want to let go, but my stomach growled, and he pulled back enough to grab a roll and stick it in my mouth, and then went back to hugging me.

I heard Zil chuckle, and Remus flipped him off absently. I could pick up contentment rising from Remus like the smell of freshly baked bread. 

“He tends to cuddle, after,” Zil called, and Remus groaned, unhooking from me to glare at his... what? Teacher? 

Zil gestured, and Remus rolled his eyes and grabbed the forgotten bottles off of the table, along with his pile of food, and eyeballed me until I picked up my abandoned bowl of food and followed him.

“What are you drinking, anyway?” I asked Zil as Remus handed over the bottles and then claimed half of the repaired squishy couch for himself. I claimed the other, sticking my feet behind the curl of his knees, my toes tucked under his thighs. He smiled over at me, dropping his hand to my ankle and wrapping around it. 

The bottle top popped, and I had to wait while Zil downed half of it before he answered. He looked at the label while he licked the taste of it from his lips, and I found my eyes dropping to the pink sweep of his tongue. “This one is... Rutherglen Muscat.” He finished the bottle in another few pulls, and threw it over his shoulder, and squinted at the other bottle. “This one says Generic Fortified Plum Dessert Wine.”

“We have a bin for empties, you know,” Remus said, and Zil laughed. “He drinks anything strong and sweet. I used to buy out two or three shops every time I had to stock the icebox.”

I squinted at Zil as he drank down most of the bottle of plum wine, and then shook my head when he offered me a sip.

Ron and Hermione came back from their cabin, freshly scrubbed and clothed. Ron had a ridiculous grin plastered to his face that he didn’t seem to be able to entirely contain, though every time Hermione glanced at him, his face was composed. 

“Lunch, thank Merlin.” Ron piled a bowl with food and tucked in, standing over the table rather than waiting to sit down. Hermione rolled her eyes and made herself a plate, but joined us in the living room. Ron followed soon after, his bowl refilled.

“No food for you?” Hermione asked Zil, eyeballing the bottle. “Or do you prefer a liquid lunch?”

“Technically, I took my nourishment from your excess earlier, but this form does require quite a bit of energy to maintain, and I am endlessly fascinated by the delightful ways humans have twisted fruit.” 

Ron choked on his mouthful of salad, and wheezed a breath. “On our excess? Our excess _what_ , exactly?”

Zil looked over at Snape, still pacing behind the couches restlessly. “See, this is what I am talking about. How did you manage to teach them enough Sensus to be useful without _telling_ them anything?”

“I’m more interested in the _why_ than the how, myself,” I said, and met Snape’s eyes across the room. He frowned and dropped his gaze first.

“‘How’ is... with great difficulty. ‘Why’ is a little bit easier, though I suspect you’ve worked out some of it, by now.” He shifted, uncomfortably, and then looked back at me, his eyes full of tension. “To tell the rest of it, I will have to... explain things that you may rather I keep quiet about.”

I knew where he was going with this, and shook my head. “What shame do I have left?”

Hermione was looking at us, her eyes narrowed. She had found her notebook again, I saw.

Remus’s thumb rubbed in small circles on my ankle. “You don’t have to tell us anything you don’t want to, Harry.”

“I notice I didn’t get that option,” Snape said, quirking an eyebrow.

“That’s because you don’t have that option.” Remus grinned at him, all teeth. 

“No, it’s alright, I want to know all of it, and I don’t think I’d understand it without help, to be honest.” I shook my head. “Even with help, I’m not sure I’m going to get it.”

“Great, good, we’re all in agreement. Spill it, Severus. How did Harry here end up with two copies of his soul?” Zil said, gesturing impatiently. 

Ron looked at me. Hermione looked at me. Remus looked at me, his eyes wide and alarmed. 

I looked at Snape.

Snape looked at the ceiling, snorting air. “Well, there goes any kind of build up, thank you very much, you enormous flashy bastard.” 

“Two copies of his soul? What does that mean?” Ron said quietly to Hermione, who shook her head.

“I’m not entirely sure, but... is that why he’s been so energetic?” Hermione flipped her notebook open and started writing things down. 

“Humans are not built for multiple souls. Not enough space in there. How though? _How_ did he end up with two? These two aren’t double-stuffed, nor is Little Dog, and all three of them wear your Mark. So why is he different?”

I chewed my lip, waiting for Snape’s reply.

He clenched and unclenched his hands. “That would be the miscalculation I was speaking of.”

Zil’s laugh was not kind. “Severus, a miscalculation is forgetting to carry the one, or adding too much water to your bathtub before you sit down in it. This is an entire _soul._ ”

“It really is a copy of _my_ soul, though?” I interrupted, and flushed when Zil turned to look at me, slowly enough that I wished that I hadn’t said anything, but I swallowed and forged on, “It’s not like I’m possessed or anything... right?”

Zil shook his head. “No, that soul is yours, no question. It is almost exactly the same.”

“Almost exactly?” Remus’s hand tightened again on my ankle. “How is it different?”

“Hm, their natures. One is an amplifier, one a generator. I am unsure which is his... original.”

“Generator,” Snape said immediately, and Zil nodded.

“How the _fuck_ did that happen??” Remus said, twisting around to look at Snape, who glared at him.

“Ok, hold on, back up,” Hermione said, raising her pen up like she was at school. “For those of us who have no idea what you are on about, can we at least get some definitions?”

Zil nursed his bottle of plum wine and stuck a thumb at Snape. “That’s his job, he’s the one that gave you tools and no instructions.” 

Snape shot him a dirty look but started pacing again, slower. “For the purposes of Sensus, human souls have a certain amount of variation, but can be grouped into a few rough categories. Generators, like Lupin, who can create vast sums of raw energy, when properly motivated.” Snape smirked a little at Remus, who shrugged, not arguing.

“Amplifiers, who absorb and concentrate energy,” Snape continued, gesturing at Ron, who looked at his hands, front and back, like he’d be able to see proof of Snape’s words.

“And the third group that is relevant to us at the moment is controllers, whose souls are adept at channeling energy to a particular end, something the others are rather rubbish at. Miss Granger is an example of a controller, for instance.”

The sound of Hermione’s pen scratching across the page of her notebook was the only noise for a few seconds, and then she paused, and looked up at him. “Is that why I wasn’t suitable?”

“One of the reasons, yes.”

She shook her head. “Afraid of a little competition, I see,” she wrote something else, and looked up. “I am assuming you are a controller, as well?”

Snape looked annoyed for a moment, before nodding in agreement. “Perceptive as always. Your nature makes you an uniquely valuable asset, but problematic as well. Normally I would have been quite pleased to add to the number of controllers in the ranks of the Corvatica, but, of course, you three have never been anything like normal.”

Ron sat back, his face creased in thought as he chewed on a roll. 

“Back to the copy of Harry’s soul, and how exactly you ‘slightly miscalculated’ that into existence.” Remus’s jaw was set into a tense line.

“He didn’t,” I said. “It wasn’t mine, originally.” Remus turned to me, his eyebrows drawn. Zil sat forward, motioning me to go on. I took a breath, and Snape held my eyes as I said it out loud. “It was Voldemort’s.”

“ _WHAT_?” Remus shot to his feet, his face going white and then flushing red as he rounded on Snape. “What did you fucking _do_?” He took a step toward him, and Snape raised his hand, stopping him in his tracks with a pulse of energy through the bond between them.

I could feel the burn of Remus’s anger, but his voice was soft, almost calm. “Drop your Bind right now, and I’ll consider not punching you in the mouth.”

Snape rolled his eyes. “You’re still no good at negotiation. Look, if you’re going to try to kill me every time I tell you that I’ve done something terrible, we will be here for days. Could you perhaps save it up for the end, try to kill me all at once?”

“Heel, Little Dog,” Zil said, and Remus’s glare shifted to him. “I don’t disagree with your sentiments, but he is right. Let him confess to all of his sins, that way you will know how hard you want to hit him.”

Remus’s angry flush had faded, a bit, and he snorted at Zil’s words. “Fine. Drop your Bind AND I won’t punch you in the mouth. Yet.”

“Good enough.” Snape dropped the hold on him, and Remus looked for a moment like he might just punch him anyway, but he grunted and returned to the couch, throwing himself into it hard enough that it slid.

Snape regarded us all for a long second, and then pulled a chair out from the table and set it carefully on the edge of the rug, so that he faced all of us equally. He sat down heavily, his bare feet like bleached bones against the rug. “Telling it in pieces is going to take too long. I have a timetable, one that has been rapidly accelerated by the events of the last week. Let me explain without interruption, and then you can decide how to react.” He looked over at Zil, and his eyes were almost... afraid. “I request that you also abide by that.”

Zil’s eyes narrowed. “You have done worse than I know.”

Snape laughed bitterly. “I have done worse than anyone knows.”

He took a deep, steadying breath. Brae walked over to him and patted his arm, and Snape’s face softened a little. “The existence of the Coraxis is the only thing out of any of this I am truly proud of, for the record. Not because I created them, but because they are more wondrous and magnificent than I can explain, and they rekindled hope that perhaps the world was worth fighting for, past the bloody revenge I had already planned.” 

His hand petted over Brae’s blue-black feathers, and Brae chittered a purr, his eyes lidded in joy. The noise seemed to settle Snape, and a little bit of the tension fell from his shoulders.

“The Death Eaters fell to base desires even faster than I had feared, once they - we, I suppose - took over. The war had hardened many hearts, and when several of the high placed members mentioned how problematic the prison camps were, wholesale extermination was bandied about with vicious glee.

“Fortunately, I was able to convince a few members that the waste of all that manpower was unnecessary. Voldemort declared the prisoners of war chattel slaves to be parceled out. It solved more than one problem for him, I think; the food and housing of all of those people, and it gave the different factions already forming in the ranks something to focus on, now that the common enemy was vanquished. Ambition runs deep in some of those black hearts, and he was constantly looking over his shoulder. He thought that squabbling over slaves and demanding we stage ever more elaborate courtly gatherings would keep us too busy to have time to plot to kill him.”

Snape smiled, and it was unpleasant. “Unfortunately for him, I can multitask.”

“I claimed Hogwarts as my spoils, and as a portion of the ranking Death Eaters are controlling their districts with the widespread use of the potions that they could only get from me, they had little choice but to go along with it. 

“The prison camps closed, the prisoners drugged into suspended animation, with a helpful potion I had developed. Of course, I had to re-administer it periodically, and so the stocks were transferred to me for warehousing.”

Snape paused, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “Whenever Voldemort decided his ‘court’ was running low on intrigue, he would order me to put a random lot of slaves up for auction.

“It took me almost a year to ferret all of the spies he had embedded into my staff, and in the meantime, I, too, started to buy slaves, in vast quantities. Potions do not make themselves, and researching potions is slow going... unless you have an enormous workforce. And experimental potions do require testing, and if a large portion of the slaves I purchased disappeared into Hogwarts never to be seen again, well...” He shook his head a little, “The rumors of what I was doing with them, and why I went through them so quickly, proved to be far more effective at keeping the others at bay than any public act of violence, and I saw no need to correct them.”

I shared a glance with Ron, remembering hours spent filling out log books. His eyes were wide.

Hermione bit back a noise, her hand gripping her pen hard enough I thought she might snap it. Snape glanced at her, and the look on her face made him look away. “I’m not asking for clemency. I know exactly the level of damned I am.”

He shook his head, and forged on. “From this vast pool I found those I could work with, and trained as Corvatica. But it would take time, before we were strong enough to take on the Dark Lord with the full might of his Death Eaters behind him. 

“And then, one of the thawed batches of prisoners turned up you three.”

He seemed to stall, his mouth opening and closing a few times, before looking at the ground. “I knew Voldemort would intercede, once he was aware, no matter who ended up with you. And if you had gone into Hystrix, I’m not sure you would have lasted the week.” He trailed off again, and glanced up, his eyes hard. “I am looking forward to that man’s death.”

“Originally, my only intent was to keep you out of other’s hands. I gave you my mark, took your names and buried you deep, sleeping in the cupboards. I had hoped that they would lose interest waiting for me to finish training you, and it worked, at least for a few years.”

I _knew_ it was the year 2000. Remus had _told_ us. But... It was different hearing it. From my point of view, it had only a few months since we had been trapped in the big room, with Sirius and the rest. Five years was a long time to have lost, even if it had been in two... what, hunks? My brain couldn’t quite grasp it, but that, at least, was a feeling I was used to by now.

Brae croaked a question but the necklace must have dried out because it didn’t translate it. Snape replied in the same guttural language, and the Coraxis flitted into the kitchen and back in a few heartbeats, handing Snape a bottle. He pulled the cork, and a wisp of smoke leaked out before he got it to his lips and took a long pull.

The scent of firewhiskey made my cock thicken, memories of being bent over his desk crawling up my spine, unbidden. Snape glanced up at me as he raised the bottle, his eyebrow lifting a fraction. 

“Help yourself, Severus,” Remus said, “I wasn’t saving that bottle or anything.”

“I’ll buy you a replacement.”

“Hm, unlikely you’d find it.” Remus glanced at me, and there was a twinkle of something in his eyes. I wondered what Snape had just drunk.

Hermione frowned. “I thought you said you couldn’t get drunk in this form. At least, last night you said that.”

“Ah, but that was before Harry decided to build me this very functional and nearly real body and stuff me into it with all the finesse of an enthusiastic sausage maker on his first day.” Snape hiccoughed a little puff of smoke, and leaned back in the chair, more relaxed. “Apparently I don’t have quite the same alcohol tolerance, though.” He looked at the bottle mournfully, and then stuck the cork back in it and put it on the table behind him.

“We will get back to _that_ later,” Zil broke in, “Back to the boy with two souls.”

“For a creature that doesn’t even have to conform to our sense of linear time, you’re very impatient today.” Snape hiccoughed again, and a frown dragged his lips down. “I seem to be quite a bit more impaired than I should be, actually. What’s in that firewhiskey?”

Remus laughed, and shook his head. “You taught me that potion of magnitude, you’d think you could taste it.”

“Fuck me.” Snape shook his head, and then actually swayed in his chair. He shook his head, and dragged himself more upright, though he did look rather more drunk than I had ever seen him. He gestured clumsily at Zil. “Little help?”

The look in Zil’s eyes made me glad I wasn’t the recipient. “Oh, sure, let me help.” He snapped his fingers, and Snape’s chair softened and swelled into a formless, wood-patterned lump, keeping him from rolling out. “There, now you can finish telling your tale.”

Snape frowned and blinked. “I expected you to sober me up.”

Zil flowed to his feet and walked behind Snape, trailing his fingers over the back of his neck. “But you are always more biddable drunk. Now, continue with your explanation.” Zil leaned into his space, gripping Snape’s jaw when he tried to turn away, forcing him to look Zil in the face. “Out with it. What have you _done_?”

Sudden fear rolled through the bond, sharp enough that more than I just felt it. Remus stiffened, next to me, his nostrils flaring. Snape gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly in his pale neck.

His voice shook, faintly. “I can bottle souls.”

Huitzitzilcoatl’s bellow of fury shook the cabin. My ears screamed as the pressure in the room skyrocketed, the air going thick and purple. Everything strobed, two images overlapping. Zil standing over Snape, his hand clamped tight on his jaw. At the same time, Huitzitzilcoatl, an enormous taloned hand reaching through a rip in space, a single claw the size of my torso settling on Snape’s chest.

 **“ << What did I say? ** **_One_ ** **rule, in all the universe. >> ” **his voice was more than sound. The claw slid down, and Snape’s robe slit beneath it in both versions. Snape’s hands groped for the claw as it stopped just below his ribs and rotated, as if Huitzitzilcoatl was going to gut him like a fish. Snape pressed into the chair as hard as he could, his face still caught by Zil’s hand.

Remus was yelling but the sound didn’t go anywhere in the purple air. 

Brae hit Zil hard, launching himself off of the wall and into Zil’s chest like a cannonball, pushing him back a few inches. A discordant neon shriek slashed across the back of the monstrous talon, sending a plume of violet sparks into the negative space. Both versions of him flinched back, and the strobing abruptly stopped as if it had never been, my ears ringing. 

Zil peeled Brae off of his chest like a hissing cat, dangling the Coraxis at arm’s length by the back of his neck. He looked at the back of his other hand in shock, where a shallow cut oozed the concept of blood, dripping up his hand.

“Brae, stop it, right now,” Snape said, his voice panicked, as Brae seemed to writhe in several directions at once, his body stretching, the end of his beak splitting and white bone pushing through. The gargoyle necklace snapped and hit the ground with a sickening crack. His dark eyes rolled back, and four new sets of eyes opened across his face, white and milky. They spun in their sockets, cataloging everything in the room, before swiveling as one to focus on Snape.

Snape snarled something in Coraxi, slashing his hand down, and Brae shivered all over and sagged, his extra eyes closing one by one and popping out of existence. Zil turned his head to see Snape frantically signing at the last set of eyes watching him, and he grunted as he backhanded Snape to the ground, leaving an arc of almost-blood that fell to the ceiling from the cut on his hand.

Remus slid his arm under Brae’s slumped form and lifted, and Zil let him go without complaint. I scrambled off the couch so Remus could lay him down, and watched his chest moving for a long moment. I gulped, and then searched the small feathers on his head, horrified I was going to find extra eyelids hiding amongst the down. I sagged in relief when I didn’t. He was a foot taller than he had been just a few minutes before, the tip of his beak gone bone white, but other than that he seemed ok.

“With all due respect, I must insist that you honor Mr Snape’s request from earlier, as you said you would,” Hermione said sharply, and I twisted to see her standing over Snape’s still form. Her pen was in her hand, but held at her side. I could feel her heart racing, her willpower the only thing keeping her voice steady and calm. “While he may have broken your rules, you just proved that you are no better by hitting him before he’s finished.”

The pen shook, the tip leaving faint iridescent lines in the air. 

Zil looked at her, his eyes glowing in a way that hurt to look at. She held her ground, her chin lifting a fraction as Ron stepped up behind her left shoulder, and I found myself behind her right, glaring at Zil. Sweat beaded in my hair, and Ron’s arm when it brushed mine was clammy with fear.

Hermione’s trembling faded as we joined her, and the three of us stared him down, Snape bleeding at our feet.

“Why don’t you have a bottle of wine, go cool off,” Hermione suggested, and Remus’s eyes behind Zil went comically wide, his lips twisting into a grin as Zil threw his hands in the air, cursing in a language I didn’t know, the words leaving a smoking blue streak behind them as he stomped off to the kitchen and out the porch door. Remus waved the smoke away with an exaggerated wave, and gave us a cheery thumbs up as he grabbed three bottles from the icebox and then followed the trail of profanity, the screen door banging behind him like an exclamation point.

She swayed between us, and I caught her as her knees buckled.

“Oh dear god, I thought we were all dead,” she said wobbly, and I shook my head as we steadied her.

“Naa, you had that, no problem,” I said into the damp tangle of her hair, and she looked up at me and broke into desperate little giggles. I grinned back and she straightened, tucking her pen back into her hair. Ron’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes hot, and she laughed again when she saw him, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his lips before standing on her own.

Snape hissed as he came around, and I was surprised that none of us moved away. He sat up slowly, his cheek and jaw already going purple, looking around for Brae, and sagging with relief when he saw him on the couch. His face creased with surprise when Ron held a hand out to help him up, but he took it, grasping his forearm and letting Ron haul him upright.

He swayed and would have fallen had I not held him, and Hermione blinked for a second before nodding. “Ah, you’re still drunk off your ass, aren’t you?”

His nod was exaggerated, “Very. Can I sit on the couch now?” Snape’s words were slow, soft, no trace of mockery or malice. He was frowning, but that wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Ron and I got him to the couch, and he sank back into it with a relieved sigh, his eyes slipping closed. Hermione pulled ice from the icebox and wrapped it in a kitchen towel. She tapped his foot with hers, rather than touching him without notice.

One eye cracked open, the other already swelled shut. She held out the ice pack, and he looked confused, like he didn’t know what she wanted him to do with it. 

“Honestly?” Hermione rolled her eyes and set the ice against his face, and put his hand on it to hold it. He hissed, but held it there as she stepped back.

“You... didn’t have to-”

“Shut up and hold your ice pack,” Ron said, and I felt the little zip of excitement go through him. Snape looked at him and then huffed a laugh, wincing as it pulled at his face.

Hermione sat down on the other side of the couch Snape was on, facing him, tucking her feet under her and pulling out her notebook. She frowned as something occurred to her. “You can heal that, can’t you? I had assumed you had not because you’re drunk, but you haven’t actually done any magic since Harry put you in that body, other than the, um...” she flipped a few pages back in her book, referencing her notes. “Other than the Bind you put on Remus to keep him from punching your teeth in.”

He opened his mouth to reply, and grunted in pain. His hand twitched to life, his motions larger and sloppy, compared to the tiny twitches the Coraxis used, or that we had used when we thought we were being sneaky. :: I am at many disadvantages at the moment, and one of them being that I’m generating about as much personal energy as a houseplant. ::

She chewed her lip, and then glanced at me, the question in her eyes plain. He deserved it, I knew he did, but I was sick of being angry at the moment. I nodded, and she looked back at Snape. “Harry’s a generator, right? How does this work, show me.”

It wasn’t a question.

Snape fuzzily sent her something I didn’t catch. I was a little nervous, almost... excited? I frowned, and she made a soft noise, unfolding off the couch. “He’s not gonna explode, right? Zil fixed that?”

:: Zil fixed it, for now anyway. He’s... You’re safe, Harry. :: I felt the ghostly brush of his fingers over the back of my neck, and I sighed, a shiver rolling down my spine. He felt like pain and gratitude and confusion.

“We don’t actually need that much, do we?” She glanced behind me, and I felt Ron’s hands slide down my shoulders and across my chest. He wasn’t pinning me, just wrapping me up, and I rested my head back against his shoulder. He pressed a kiss to my temple. She hummed, watching us, and her lips tipped into a tiny smile as she came closer. My mouth went dry as she held my eyes, something playful and predatory about her look.

“You always used to talk about how pretty they were, and I was never exactly in a position to appreciate what you meant,” she said to Snape, though she didn’t look away from me. 

I licked my lips as she leaned up, her fingertips sliding over the stubble on my jaw, her face only a few inches from mine. She gave me all the time in the world to pull away as her fingers threaded through my hair at the base of my neck, but my cock was halfway hard and getting harder, digging against her hip as she brushed her lips over mine.

Her hand clenched tight, and I moaned and would have fallen had Ron not been there to hold me up. Hermione took my mouth in a hard kiss, her pointed tongue raking across my teeth until I opened my mouth for her to plunder. My eyes slid shut, my brain shutting down like a shop out of cheese, and I moaned again.

Hermione pressed her other hand against my chest, and I felt her clumsily touch the well of energy I could feel. She had trouble with it, her nails denting my skin through the soft fabric of my shirt. She made a frustrated little mewl against my lips, and Ron pressed his cock to my ass helplessly as the noise went through him, the energy rippling through him and rebounding, stronger.

< Miss Granger, if I may... > Snape sent, and I felt him guide her, slipping her fingers into that pool of energy with a little pop that made me shiver, my nipples going hard and goosebumps rushing down my spine.

She pulled her lips away from mine with a final little lick to my lower lip, and stopped me from chasing her mouth with a tug on my hair. Her eyes slid shut in concentration, and I looked over her shoulder at Snape, watching us from the couch with hot, dark eyes. My cock throbbed again, and she slid her leg over my thigh, slowly grinding into the muscle, every motion rocking her hip against me.

I felt Snape pull some of the energy away, healing the worst of the damage in a few uncomfortable heartbeats. Then he stopped, and showed her the way of it, guiding her in gathering up the energy and how to direct it, how to shape it to heal as much of the damage as she wanted to.

She left him some bruises, I saw, and he pulsed acceptance and thanks, and then withdrew. 

Her eyelids fluttered open, and her probing hand against my chest flattened, her touch withdrawing. She laid her head against my chest, and I slid one arm around her waist, my other slipping down to hold Ron’s hip. Ron shifted to hold her, too, resting his head on my shoulder, his breath stirring the hair she still lightly held at the back of my neck. I could feel them, buzzy and warm, the echo of their arms around me feeding back into my arms around them. My cock ached in a pleasant, distant way, but I didn’t really care to do anything about it, just wanted to hang there, between them, and breathe for a while.

The noise of a bottle opening popped the little bubble of calm around us, and we broke apart. Hermione pressed a kiss to my chest as she pulled away. I felt... surprisingly good, actually, and Ron's eyes were half closed, a sleepy, satisfied look on his face. I realized we must have zoned out for a while, because Remus and Zil were back, talking in the kitchen quietly. Snape was sitting next to Brae, examining his cracked beak, signing with him. 

Ron eyed Zil, and looked over at Snape, bruised but healed. “He gonna hit you again?” he asked him, and Snape rolled his eyes, clearly still somewhat drunk.

“Inevitably, I suspect, but not right now.”

“Good enough.” 

Brae let me poke at his face, endured me checking him over, grumbling the entire time. “Now you know what that feels like,” I said to him, and he gaped a grin at me, still Brae, just... bigger. I pulled him into a hug, and he clacked his beak in a little happy noise.

“Are we going to talk about this... transformation now, or after you finish your tale?” Zil said placidly as he sat back down in the armchair, like he hadn’t almost killed Snape an hour ago. 

I bit back a laugh at my indignation; I had almost killed Stape last night, who was I to judge? Ok, sure, Zil was a giant terrifying dimensional beast, whatever that was, and he could kill us all. I should probably be trying to get far away from him, but instead I found myself sympathizing about losing his temper.

“After, please. Assuming you let me live,” Snape’s voice had a hint of his normal bite in it. I let Brae settle back down on the couch next to Snape, as he was too big to perch on the arm anymore, and wedged myself onto the other couch with Ron and Hermione.

Remus shrugged and grabbed a pillow and plunked it on the rug in front of our couch, throwing himself onto it hard enough that I winced. 

“Have you always been so hard on furniture?” I asked him, and he grinned up at me, resting his elbows on the couch between our knees and stretching his legs out.

“Yes, my mother became quite good at repair charms,” he said, and I laughed. I felt... lighter, somehow. Less broken.

Snape waited until we all settled down, sipping the mug of tea he had asked Remus for in an attempt to sober up faster, before starting to talk again, the vivid purple bruise on his cheek hidden by the lank fall of his hair.

“What you have to understand is that I had never _intended_ to use what I had learned, had never used it on another soul, until some of the other Houses had problems with their slaves using Wild magic out of desperation. Wandless, wordless, driven to the edge, they lashed out. And so the order came down to... clip their wings, as it were.” He took an unsteady sip of tea, sloshing a little bit over the rim. He muttered a curse and dried his hand on his robe absently, his eyes shadowed.

“The methods the others used are... horrific. Permanent. Disfiguring. I knew my Corvatica wouldn’t lash out, had never done so, but... I prepared anyway. I claimed my stock properly safe, and demonstrated to their satisfaction that they wouldn’t break under stress, and claimed trade secrets on my methods.

“The Corvatica are known for being very... intact, for slaves,” his voice almost broke, and he cleared his throat. “And it is, of course, because they are. Entirely.”

“Oh shit,” I muttered, the bottom of my stomach going cold as I remembered Snape’s face when I shot the bottles across the room at Lucius Malfoy’s head, the flash of desperate panic and regret.

Snape glanced at me, and then away again, and shook his head. “You couldn’t have known. I... I told you nothing. Less than nothing. I treated you exactly how they expected me to. How _he_ expected me to.”

“And so I broke the vow I had given to Zil, to never remove a being’s soul.”

Remus grunted. “You are telling me you pulled out their souls as a _kindness?”_ he spat, and shook his head. “What the hell was the alternative?”

Snape’s voice cut like acid across his disdain. “Well, House Ovis prefers transorbital lobotomy, but at least his victims don’t care when he’s done with them. The others generally get more unpleasant from there.” 

Hermione gagged, her hand on my leg gripping hard enough to hurt. 

He looked over at us, his eyes bruised and burning. “I will not call what I did to you mercy, but I knew it was not permanent. I am just as guilty of every trespass against you as I was before. But I had a _reason_ , beyond petty cruelty.”

“You knew what Voldemort would do to me,” I said, slowly, rolling it around in my head. It was like looking at a painting you’d seen a hundred times before, and suddenly realize what you thought was a landscape was actually a skull, and you couldn’t see the landscape anymore.

His eyes closed, the frown line between his eyebrows as dark as a knife wound. “Yes.”

“Because he'd done that to you.” It was a guess, but Snape flinched like he had been hit. He swallowed, and then nodded, jerkily. 

“Repeatedly. His legilimency was always strongest with physical contact, and he was quite sure I was trying to kill him.” Snape’s voice was hard. “He was right, of course, but I didn’t just have occlumency as a defense, this time. He was unable to get anything from me, and was uninterested in the Corvatica as playthings due to a compulsion I planted, thank the gods.”

Remus’s bowed head shook with his carefully controlled breath, and I could feel the tension rolling off of him.

“I am missing information here,” Zil called, and I blinked over at him, realizing that the landscape-that-was-a-skull shift had made saying it easier.

“Snape bottled our souls, and sent me into Voldemort’s clutches an empty vessel. It didn’t matter if he broke me open, there wasn’t anything to _find.”_

“But how did his soul end up in you?” Zil said, and I stopped, because I only sort of understood that, myself.

“I saw my chance, and I took it,” said Snape, “I had no idea if it would work, but Harry has always been an overachiever. He managed to perform the soul bottling spell without even having a soul, and unknowing all the while.” He sounded proud, again, and I tried and failed to not be pleased by it.

“So, your miscalculation...”

“I didn’t expect the soul to imprint on him, after he stripped what was left of Tom Riddle off of it. I had expected it to die once his body did. And then, when Harry's own soul was restored...”

“He ended up with two.” Zil sighed, and looked at the ceiling, muttering to himself. “I should still kill you. You have no idea... You could have made them into Dementors, Severus!”

My mouth fell open, and this time it was Ron who sounded like he might throw up.

“I knew I would not. I tested on myself, and another who was willing, to prove that I could restore it.”

“And who offered to let you pluck out their soul? One of us slaves? I’m sure their consent was entirely valid and non-coerced.” Hermione’s voice was tight in her throat.

“Offered? The fool demanded it, and practically beat me bloody for trying on myself first.”

Remus moaned, and put his hands over his face. “Oh god, you didn’t. That’s unreasonable.”

“He gave me damn few choices in the matter! And I had to be sure.” Snape downed the rest of his tea. “Besides, when have you ever known Sirius to be reasonable?”  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know what notes to put on this one, other than endless thanks to my betas, Sammi and H.
> 
> :: chews nails and waits for reactions ::


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stayed up until 2 am and didn't even show this to my betas yet, but... I just... couldn't wait. :)
> 
> This was my soundtrack for tonight, if anybody wants it: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLCQ2DK3yQCr4_O3mPBm6RqRcrmc1xh7Tp

Remus lifted his head and stared at Snape, his face full of pain. “You really do have Sirius, don’t you?”

Snape nodded. “He was... one of the first. It was considerably easier to let his blood relatives believe he had died than to have a messy incident with them over possession of him as a slave. And once I took his name, Sirius Black no longer existed on this plane, and the family tree reported that branch broken.”

Remus pulled in little short huffs of air. “He gave me a mirror- I... We have lists of the missing, and lists of the d-dead, are you saying that-”

“Your lists are in dire need of an update. I know for a fact that a great many people listed as dead are no such thing, including Sirius Black.” 

Remus lurched to his feet with a cry and was on Snape before any of us had more time to do much than jerk, grabbing him by the front of his robe and hauling him half off the couch, smashing their mouths together in a brutal, desperate kiss. He broke it when Snape’s flailing arm smacked into his side, but only to pull him upright and wrap him in a bone-creeking hug that made Snape wheeze. Snape’s lips were red, his face almost comically surprised. Remus didn’t look like he was letting go any time soon, and Snape softened by degrees, eventually returning the embrace, though he still looked blindsided.

I could see Remus’s shoulders shaking, though all I could feel from him was ecstatic, overwhelming relief. Snape’s face melted from shocked to uncomfortable to wincing in pain, but he didn’t move, letting Remus take what he needed.

Eventually, Remus pulled away, wiping his wet face on his sleeves. He glanced at us, cheeks blotchy, his eyes already welling again, and went to the kitchen to wash his face, leaving Snape standing there looking unsure of himself, his hands empty.

“So... I’m still unclear on why you need us to take Harry back to Hogwarts,” Ron said, and Snape seemed to snap out of it, running his hands through his hair and yanking at the tangles as he sat back down.

“Yes, I was going to get to that, but you beat me to it, Freckles,” Zil drawled, watching Remus make himself a drink in the kitchen. “And then we will talk again about Little Dog’s media naranja.”

“Freckles?” Ron sputtered, turning to Hermione, who hushed him with a finger over his lips.

“And I want to know what, and to who, you were signing to when Brae had his, hm, incident,” she added, and Ron nodded behind her finger, earning them both a mild glower.

Brae shot her a feathery thumbs up, his crest fluffing, and then quickly flattened both when Snape glanced at him. His crest perked again as soon as Snape rolled his eyes and looked away.

“You want to add anything to the list?” Snape asked as Remus handed him a new mug of tea. Remus hummed as ambled back over to our couch, thinking about it as he reloaded Zil with plum wine and wandered back to the living room, unwrapping a bar of chocolate and taking a bite.

“I have too many. Come back to me,” he said thickly, folding himself back onto the pillow on the floor and leaning on my legs. I let my hand stroke over his hair, and he rubbed his cheek against my knee, offering me a hunk of chocolate.

I could feel Snape’s gaze on me, and I chewed through my treat, the multitudes of whys and hows and whens all howling to be answered blunted by the taste of the chocolate, until the only question that really mattered bobbed to the surface. I licked chocolate from my lips, meeting his eyes. “Will your plan still work? To take them down, _all_ of them?”

Everyone went still.

The fire banked in his dark eyes flashed back to life, and his lips twisted. “Yes, if we hurry. But I’ll need your help.”

“You have it.” I had never been more certain of anything in my life. He sat back heavily against the couch, looking confused again. 

“I haven’t... even told you what I need you to do, what the plan _is-”_

“And you’re going to. No more bullshit secrets. But as far as I can tell, you’re the closest thing we’ve got to a chance fixing all of this mess.” Remus hummed an agreement. “I understand why you didn’t; there’s no way he wouldn’t have found it, no matter how hard you had obliviated me, but _had_ you asked, I would have been willing to help, without all of... this.” I tapped my finger against the line of my collar, and he dropped his eyes, slumping a little. 

His head shook, slowly, “It won’t work without all of... that. But I had intended to leave you three out of the final confrontation.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Ron said lightly, but his eyes were dead serious.

“I wasn’t volunteering you and Hermione,” I protested. 

She snorted, leaning forward to snag the chocolate Remus held out to her, breaking it in half for Ron, who licked it off her fingers. “As if we were going to let you go by yourself. In your dreams.” She looked over at Snape, her eyebrow raised. “No blanket permissions from me. You will ask, and I will tell you what I will do.”

He nodded, confusion writ large in the lines on his face.

“We started this together, we’ll finish it together,” added Ron, and he squinted at Snape for a long moment. “I’m not agreeing to anything until you tell me the plan, but unless it’s somehow worse than what we’ve already been through, I’m in.”

Remus felt like a ball of sunshine at my feet, pride and admiration rolling off of him and warming me down to the bones. “Well, there you go then, Severus,” he said, like we were talking about what kind of holiday to take. “It sounds like we’re all with you. What’s the plan?”

Snape pushed to his feet, eyes anguished. “How can you be so... cavalier about this?” he spat. “I expected... I had thought - Don’t you remember what I _did_ to you?” His voice climbed into a roar. He threw his arms out, gesturing widely, his bruised face twisting into a sneer. “What if I’m lying? Why are you _trusting me? Do you have no sense at all?!”_

He took a trembling step toward us and then snarled and turned, driving his fist into a bookcase with a bruising thud. Rage and oily guilt poured from him, poisonous thorns of doubt, self-loathing as worn and familiar as a strangling, old coat. 

A noise tore out of him like a wounded animal, and the lights of the cabin flickered as darkness grew and seemed to _reach_ for him. He spun and backhanded the wall, pain exploding like a holy lantern in his hand, driving the shadows back even as he fell unnaturally still. 

I squeezed Hermione’s knee, and she met my eyes as she tapped Ron’s foot. We were off the couch as a set, across the room before Remus had moved.

The air closer to him had gone cold, and the warmth of our skin left a ghostly tail as we converged on him. The shadows hiding behind us hissed and writhed away as soon as we grabbed him, Ron on one arm, me on the other, trapping him against the wall. My hand around his wrist made the pain flair, the shadows shrinking away. 

“Leave them, Little Dog, this is their fight, not yours.” Zil had somehow appeared on the couch next to Brae, and had a restraining hand on his shoulder. “I will contain it if they cannot.”

Remus hit the edge of the cold, and his over-hot skin boiled the air into thick clouds, quickly fogging the room. Visibility dropped to almost nothing, droplets coating my glasses like rain.

It felt like the empty gray nothing of a dream, mist obscuring everything but what was right in front of us. Even the sounds seemed muffled, but that could have been the blood pounding in my ears. 

His skin was so cold it was making my fingers ache, and I frowned, touching his cheek. Fear trickled down my spine, and took a deep breath, a hot twist of anger at him spawning fireflies around me.

< He’s freezing, > I sent, and Hermione finished twisting her hair into a bun with her pen, and stepped between us, pressing her hands hard against his chest. 

< He’s barely breathing, too. > She slid her hands up, cupping them around his pale neck, the tan of her skin making the grey cast of his face even more pronounced. Her eyes shut, the line between her brows going dark.

< And he’s right here, isn’t he? > Ron pulled, and the fireflies ignited and shot across the room, bouncing and splitting and bouncing again until the darkness around us was full of trails of light, and the shadows had nowhere to hide. < Oy, Snape, where the **hell** **ARE** **YOU**? >

The world strobed, and we broke through what was left of Snape’s occlumency, and fell into his mind.

  
  
  
  



	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The smut comes back soon, ducks, I absolutely promise. But here, finally some answers.

It was dark, and so, so cold. I hit the ground with a thud, a cloud of ashes billowing around me, coating my tongue, sticking to my eyelashes, tasting of dirt and regret. Bitter wind licked at the back of my neck, dug sharp fingers into the soles of my feet. I coughed and wiped my face as Hermione and Ron landed in their own dusty piles, sending a fresh wave of grit over me. 

“That sucked,” Ron wheezed, pushing himself upright. I could barely see him, the thin, weak light picking out a faint Ron-shaped outline in the gloom. 

Hermione laid still for another breath before rolling over. She was even harder to see, her darker skin and hair only reflecting a hit of light. I held out a hand and she pulled herself upright, running her fingers over her hair and triumphantly pulling her pen from her rapidly-expanding bun.

“Will that even work here?” I said, and she shrugged, a little shower of ash falling from her jumper, the cold wind snatching at it and tossing it back into the air. 

“No idea. Let’s find out. _Lumos._ ” Golden light streamed from the tip of her pen, pushing back the dark around us like a shockwave. As it went, it whipped the ash into towering dust-devils that wound toward the distant sky, eventually joining the meandering, gloomy tornados sluggishly dragging their tails through the dust, crackling with silent, ruddy lightning.

“What happened here?” Ron said softly, looking around. We were at the center of a circle of destruction, hunks of splintered, blackened wood and long rows of burnt rubble. Hermione’s light cast long dark shadows from everything. We were on the roof of a destroyed building, it looked like. Or perhaps just the last remaining floor. 

“It looks like a bomb went off,” I said, and picked an object up from one of the scattered piles. It was half a book, crumbling in my fingers as I tried to open it, the remnants pulled by the wind into one of the distant tornadoes. 

Hermione was chewing her lip and turning a slow circle, her pen held above her head so the long shadows around us huddled under our feet, and then set out purposefully, walking slowly down one row of debris, counting. She got to a particular number, and turned, nodding to herself as she approached a spot blasted down to glossy, melted stone.

“I know where we are. Look, the piles are bookshelves. That over there is the librarian’s desk, and right here is where the door to the Restricted section was.”

She was right, I could see it now that she had pointed it out. Nothing remained of the roof, or the walls, or the _library_ , other than the rows of debris. 

“... So, if this is the Library, where’s Snape?” I said, rubbing ashy book off on my leg. 

“Dungeons?” Hermione suggested, and Ron shook his head, walking toward where the floor disappeared into the darkness.

“I know where he is. Look.” He pointed into the gloom, and I walked closer to the edge to see. We were in what remained of the castle, but there wasn’t much left. The grounds were scorched black earth, uprooted trees twisted into charred logs, the quidditch pitch a crater with steep, sloping sides.

The lake was still there, a shiny black hole, reflecting the wandering tornadoes and the huge full moon. And along the edge of the lake, the Whomping Willow stood, alone in a shaft of silver moonlight, the grass around the base a bright, lively green. It waved it’s branches as it always did, the moaning wind pulling at the long willow strands like hair.

I looked up into the empty sky; there was no moon. I looked back; the reflected moon glimmered brightly.

“Right. Well, let us hope the staircases are intact,” Hermione said, and led the way, her footsteps sure and light even though there were no walls to guide her. I was pretty sure she could have walked the library blindfolded and never skinned a knee, but it was eerie to walk on empty, open platforms, everything gray and broken.

The stairways were intact, mostly. There was a spot or two we had to jump, but it was easy enough. Most of the rest of the castle was gone, occasional walls supporting what was left of the floor above. Blackened, empty picture frames were stacked in piles, as if someone had been cleaning up. There were trails in the ash, here, footsteps leading out the blown apart front doors, a hunk of wood still clinging to a hinge squeaking back and forth in the wind that whistled through every crack.

I swallowed, hard. I knew this wasn’t real, but it felt so real. The smell of burnt wood and blistered oil paint, the feel of the grit on my fingers from grabbing a banister and leaving a white handprint in the soot, the gasping, moaning wind cutting at me through my shirt. Had Hogwarts been destroyed, utterly, this is what it would look like, this is how it would feel under my feet. A long, cold shiver worked its way up my spine, and Ron bumped my shoulder with his as we trotted down the front steps, following Hermione’s guiding, bobbing light.

His shoulder was warm, even through our clothes, and I grabbed his hand, looking up at him when he paused and turned, looking down at our joined hands. He grinned at me, and wrinkled his nose, giving my hand a warm squeeze, and not letting go. “Thanks, mate, now my hand is all grotty, too.”

I smacked him with my other hand, and then we caught up with Hermione, who was waiting with a raised eyebrow. She looked at our hands, and I shrugged. “I was cold.”

She nodded, and held out her hand, which I clasped tight in my free one. Her hand was a bit rough, the calluses on her fingertips from holding a pen never really going away, but it was tiny compared to Ron’s. Hermione’s light glowed a little brighter as the three of us walked down the path to the lake.

I could smell the water, green and damp, though I had never seen it so glass-like and still. No bugs, no frogs, not even the wind rippled the surface. I pulled away from them as Ron started looking for an intact stick to use to poke the knothole and freeze the Whomping Willow’s branches, walking closer to the lake, gazing back across at the carcass of Hogwarts, the only place I had ever felt at home. 

The mud was cold between my toes, squishing as I stepped too close. Even the reeds were burnt down to the waterline, the leaves and stems perfectly intact until they left the safety of the water. I picked a burnt bullrush, the top a charred mass that puffed into ash as soon as I ran my fingers down it.

Hermione came to stand next to me, touching my shoulder lightly. The lightning from her pen ran across the surface of the lake and crawled up what was left of the castle, glinting off of the broken windows, the shadows jumping here and there like students out after curfew, racing down hallways as quiet as you could. My breath fogged in the air as I sighed, and pulled my toes out of the mud to join her on drier ground.

The full moon reflected in the lake beamed up at us, the lunar seas as clear as any photograph. It looked like you could reach out and smudge your finger through the dust. The empty sky above felt dead in comparison.

She looked at the castle for a moment, one arm crossed over her chest. “I don’t like seeing it like this. Is this really what it’s like in his mind?” 

Ron stomped up, dragging a broken Quidditch flagpole. It was much longer than we needed, but at least it didn’t crumble away as soon he touched it. “Dark, broken, and depressing, I don’t know why you are surprised at all. It’s almost exactly what I would think it would be.”

I shook my head. “Something’s not right. Not that I don’t agree, but... Let’s just keep going.”

Hermione took one last look at the dark husk of the castle, and turned to follow us. She kicked a small rock, and paused as it clattered against her shoe. She bent and picked it up, measuring it in her hand for a moment before she skipped it across the lake, like she had done a hundred times to teach me the way of it.

The rock hit the surface of the lake with an earsplitting, discordant shriek, like the scream of hot metal on dry ice. It didn’t ripple, but left a scuff in the perfect reflection of the moon-that-wasn’t before skipping off and hitting again, and again, and again again before tapering off, the noise echoing against the stones of the castle, the writhing tornadoes in the distance perking up and moving closer. The flashes of lightning in the played the sound back to us a moment later, BOOM, Boom boomboommm, and Hermione looked up at us, eyes wide as another set of flashes went off on the other side of the castle. BOOM, Boom, boomboommm.

“We should go,” she said.

“Ya think?” Ron snapped, grabbing my shirt and shoving me to where he needed me to stand. “This thing’s so long it’s gonna take all three of us if we’re gonna hit that knot.” Hermione joined us, and I stopped her as she held the light up with one hand and wrapped the other arm around the pole awkwardly.

“Here, let me...” I took the pen from her, slowly, but it didn’t go out. “Put your hair way up,” I said, and wiggled the lit pen at her.

She laughed, some of the fear going out of her eyes. “Oh, aren’t you clever.” She twisted her hair up and tucked the pen into it so that the light stuck out over her head, like one of those deep sea fish with the lures.

“Give it a good shake, I’m thinking we’re gonna need it when we get to the other end of this tunnel, and I’d rather you not drop it,” Ron grunted, holding the pole by himself, the muscles in his shoulders tight and hard.

She shook her head hard, the shadows going crazy as the light swung, but it didn’t come loose.

BOOM, Boom boomboommmm said grumbled the lightning, louder.

It took us three tries to get it right, the Willow cracking against the pole, almost yanking my arm from the socket, pulling Hermione off her feet completely to dangle from the end of the pole like a gymnast. She held on tight, and we pulled it back for another try.

“Wait... wait...” Ron said, aiming carefully, watching the pattern of the whipping branches. “Annnnd NOW!”

We stepped forward together, and the solid base of the pole slid through the gap in the branches and clunked against the knot. The limbs fell still, the long strands of willow rustling as the wind gathered them up and tugged at them like a lover.

Ron crowed, and Hermione kissed his cheek.

The pole clattered as we dropped it, and it rolled down the embankment to scratch against the surface of the lake, sending up a long wail that the tornadoes screamed back at us. I grabbed the pole and spun it off the lake, but the noise had already been added to the lightning show.

“Time to go!” Ron said, pulling a gap in the blowing willow and holding it open for us. Hermione went through first, the light going striped, but I was right behind her. Ron let the willow fall closed, and abruptly the boom of the lightning and the moan of the wind and the screech of the offended reflection moon cut off, leaving only the sound of a gentle breeze and the chirp of crickets.

“The hell?” I said, but Hermione was already pushing open the tunnel door, Ron’s hand on my shoulder urged me forward, and I went down the steps of the tunnel with my chest tight. 

I wondered what exactly waited for us at the end.

Ron made sure there was no latch on the door, and closed it, leaving us only with Hermione’s bobbing headlight to see by. The tunnel looked better than the last time I had been in it; the roots hadn’t grown so deeply much the same as I remembered it, the path wasn’t as worn. The shadows from the light swung drunkenly, and I moved closer to her, letting my eyes close and setting a hand on her shoulder. She reached up and interlaced our fingers as we went forward, Ron’s hand in the center of my back. 

The air warmed as we got closer to the end, and I opened my eyes when Hermione slowed. We were under the Shack, the ceiling cobwebbed wooden beams.

The trap door was open, letting yellow candlelight pour from the floor above, pooling on the ground, as bright as mid-morning sun after the only light being the tip of the pen. There was the sound of a quill on parchment, and the gurgle of a pot on the fire, the smell of hot wax and burnt paper seeping through the cracks between floorboards.

We looked at Hermione, and she looked between the two of us a few times before she blinked, like it had just occurred to her that she was in charge. Ron rolled his eyes, and she pursed her lips mock-sternly, before gesturing at him to take a look, since he barely had to stretch to look in the shack.

Ron peeked over the ledge, and then dropped back down, his eyes huge. 

“It's a bit rude to lurk in the cellar, you know,” Snape called, his voice oddly pitched. 

I raised my eyebrows at Ron, and he just shook his head and gestured to me to go first with a little ‘be my guest’ wave. I frowned, but took a breath and climbed the few rungs of the ladder and looked into the room.

The inside of the Shrieking Shack was tidy, broken furniture mended, though tilted in places. There were candle stubs everywhere, on every flat surface, and hanging from sconces on the wall, tied in neat bundles, leaning on each other as they melted. A thousand flickering lights danced, every shadow from a guttering light canceled by another’s brightness. Wax ran in thick rivers, building up like glaciers before running off the edge, only to slowly melt in the heat from the candles below. 

“You look rather like a Mandrake, just your head sticking out all goggle-eyed. Hurry up, I’m not entirely sure the Willow will hold, this time.”

I pulled myself up, and then helped Hermione step up when Ron practically hoisted her through the trapdoor, his devilish grin following a moment later as she sputtered and regained her balance. She paused to put out her headlight. I ventured further out, turning the corner to the main room slowly, letting the others catch up.

Snape sat behind a desk, a bubbling cauldron on a stand next to him, taking notes from two books and consulting a third. A clock half-ticked on the wall, the pendulum swinging halfway and freezing, then swinging the same way again, the second hand twitching but never advancing.

But it wasn’t the Snape we had left in the cabin, or Professor Snape, or even the desperate, frenetic version of him from his memories of London. This Snape looked like a 7th year, at most, wearing a battered Slytherin jumper and tie, his school robe draped over the hatrack. His face may have had less lines, but the scowl was the same as he waited for us to stop gaping at him. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, the Dark Mark red and angry against his pale skin. 

There were three old wooden stools, conspicuously empty of candles, and he looked at them and then back at us, an eyebrow lifted, before going back to his notes.

Hermione marched over and sat on one of the stools, tucking her shoes over the bottom rung, like she had done every day in Potions class. Ron plunked into his, and I took the last, feeling nervous and unsure.

He left us there for a long paragraph, the scritch of his pen soothing, the light from the candles dancing against the boarded up windows. 

“If they’ve sent you three in, I’ve not actually turned yet, which is good. I _had_ expected to be able to feel it, but it’s not like I can ask someone.”

Hermione leaned forward, her fingers gripping the desk hard. “Turned into what?”

Snape looked up, his young face marred by bruised circles under his eyes.

“A Dementor,” I said, and he flinched, looking back down at his book, a ragged half nod confirming it.

Hermione was staring at me, putting pieces together. 

“Oh Merlin,” Ron whispered, and Snape’s hand clenched on the arm of his chair. The end of his quill shook for a second before he got himself back under control. 

“It hasn’t happened yet, so that means we have time.” Snape said. “I didn’t expect to degrade this quickly, but the body Harry made is very close to my actual one, and the energy shear between the two of them is wildly unstable at this distance.”

“How?” Hermione said, her voice tight, “We’re in your mind, right? Show me what you’re talking about, I can’t... I can’t problem-solve without more information.”

He slumped further in his chair, and he looked... small, the chair dwarfing him. He finally lifted his head and spread his hands, looking ashamed. “I don’t have enough left. I’m barely holding the Shack together. I can’t even present myself as I am, instead stuck at this wretched point in my life.”

“Fine, you’re out of juice, use mine,” I snapped, and he thumped his head back into his chair, a little bit of his sneer surfacing.

“Thank god you have your companions to save you from your own martyrdom,” he drawled, and Ron smacked his hand down against the desk suddenly, making all of us jump.

“ _His_ martyrdom? _He’s_ not the one shaving off parts of his _soul_ to try to save the world, who made an entire secret _army_ of helpers against their will, supposedly to do that _very thing_ and then refusing to use it. Pull your head out of your arse, will you?” His face had gone red, like it always did when he got angry. “If you don’t fucking _use_ _us_ to help, then you really _are_ the monster you think you are, because then you did it all for no _reason!_ ” 

Ron leaned forward on the desk, knocking over the wooden stool with a clatter, yelling into Snape’s face. “Why the _fuck_ should you get the luxury to suffer alone, you _absolute twat_?”

Snape’s mouth had dropped open in shock, and he was only now starting to recover, wetting his lips, looking like he was searching for something to say. He shrunk back into the depths of his chair, but he had nowhere to go.

I glanced at Hermione; her cheeks were pink, watching Ron with pride and hunger. I shook my head at both of them, and reached forward to snag the abandoned quill from where it leaked ink on his notes. I shoved the sleeve of my shirt up to my elbow and tested the metal point against my forearm.

Snape looked over at me just as I dragged the first line against my skin, the nib leaving violet fire behind it, the pain licking up my spine and bursting in my head. I shivered, my nipples going hard against my shirt, and I took a shuddering breath, watching the scratch weep neon drops.

Hermione’s hand slid into my hair, grounding me. Ron shifted his hip to support my shoulder, still boxing Snape in, looking perfectly willing to grab him.

I held my arm out to him, splattering his notes with light, and opened my hand. “Show us.”

He reached for my hand slowly and pressed our forearms together, gripping my arm tight. I hissed, the scratch burning where it crossed the Dark Mark, my fingers digging into his arm. The energy soaked into him like water on parched ground, and he jerked his head to the side, his eyes closing, the bruised look fading from his face.

He took a small, hitching breath, and then _pulled_ the energy out of me, rather than just take what had leaked. I sagged, my eyes sliding shut, feeling like the jug of water after a Quidditch match. Hermione slid her arm around me. 

The candles around us roared to life, the room blazing with light I could see even behind my closed eyes. Snape gripped my arm and pulled again, and all the candles blew out with a swirl of rain scented wind, leaving a thousand fireflies of the cooling wicks, the waxy smell of snuffed flame thick in my nose. 

Everything disappeared. The Shack, the chair I was sitting on, even my sense of having a body faded. It was just dark, with the sense of the others with me, though it was much less cold. 

“Sensus, by its nature, is hard to describe, and was even before several of its names were wiped out of the minds and mouths of society. Metaphor is the second easiest way to explain, at least initially.” Snape’s voice rolled over us from everywhere, a blend of the young voice and the familiar, deeper version.

“Hold up, what’s the first?” Ron said, and I could feel Snape’s impatience tempered by a fondness that he was either too tired to hide, or didn’t bother.

“The easiest way is that I reach inside of you and show you the way of it. But Miss Granger would like the basics, I believe.”

“Before I stab someone, yes.” Hermione buzzed with that same nervous energy she had always had on the first day of a new class; desperate to absorb everything on the first go.

“Forgive the arithmancy; I’m fairly certain you never had a chance to take that class, more’s the pity; two of you would have hated it and the other never understood why.”

“Let us picture some poor unfortunate, dropped into nothing. What shall we name him?”

“Malfoy,” said Ron immediately, and if I could have figured out how, I would have rolled my eyes.

A dot lit up in the darkness. “A single point. By itself, nothing. No height, no width, no depth. Much like young Malfoy, actually.”

Ron snorted in the darkness.

“However, if we slide it like this,” and the dot slid, leaving a trail, a white line against the black. “Now we have something. We can say that he is here,” and an annoying green spot lit up on the line. “Or over here.” A different spot glowed green. 

“But still, not a lot of room for an ego like that. So, let us push this line away from us...” Snape sent the line off one direction, and it left a flat plane behind it, complete with an angular green doodle with a little snear.

“Flat Mister Malfoy can go this way…” the doodle sauntered over to one side of the plane. “Or he can go this way,” and the doodle turned and walked to the corner. “His world is, essentially, two dimensional.”

“That was the most complicated way possible of explaining the concept of 2D, you realize that, right?” Ron sounded annoyed. “Couldn’t have started with ‘Hey, you know how paper is flat, yeah?’”

The pause this time was longer, and paperMalfoy kicked at one of the walls of his prison. 

“Hey, you know how paper is flat?” Snape said, his voice inflectionless, and I managed not to laugh, but Ron thumped with smug amusement, and another of the little zings he got talking back to Snape.

“Can we get on with it? I can stab you all once you can feel it, you know,” Her voice was calm, but I didn’t doubt her one bit.

“What do you think is the next step, after watching the first two?” Snape asked, showing us the trick of manipulating the image, and I felt his surprise when it was Ron that answered first.

“Slide 2d up into 3D, right?” The plane slid upright, becoming a transparent cube, the Malfoy doodle getting uglier, if 3d. “And then slide 3D through 4D, and that’s Time.” Ron pushed the cube away, and it floated as the doodle walked, leaving a ghostly outline.

“I… yes. Exactly so.” Snape pulsed with confusion and frisson of astonishment. I could feel it from Hermione, too, and if I could...so could Ron.

“Hey! Thanks a lot, you’d think I was some kind of drooling moron. This isn’t that advanced, Hermione, come on.” Ron’s indignation was underlaid with a fat stripe of happy pride.

I wasn’t surprised at all, this sort of weird layer upon layers thing was right up Ron’s alley; it’s why he was so good at things like chess and puzzles. He just looked at things and could figure out, like, 5 steps ahead. Assuming he didn’t punch it, I mean. 

Hermione harrumphed faintly, but her swell of affection for him caused discordant ripples in the darkness, like vibration in a string out of tune. The cube and it’s occupant glitched, flickering and shifting like a bad tv signal. She abruptly buttoned the feeling up and sealed it away, the reverberations fading, and turned her attention back to Snape.

“Let’s stop at 4, for now,” he said, his voice sounding young again. “Ah, for _now_ , don’t get all stabby with me. You get the idea that each slides through the next, yes?” He was checking with me, I realized after a moment.

“Yes, though how this relates to you turning into a Dementor has got me completely baffled,” I admitted. I was keeping up, so far; I had guessed 3, but hadn’t gotten around to 4, and now my brain was trying to see how 4 slid into 5, and I… couldn’t picture it at all, had no bloody idea, and suddenly I was quite sure I was about to be at the bottom of this class. 

“Ah, that will take a shift of perspective,” he said, and everything rotated in a direction that I don’t think actually existed. “Let us just deal with 2, 3, and 4.”

The cube now looked like several horizontal lines, labeled 2, 3, 4 from bottom to top. Our annoying green dot was in the space between 3 and 4, tethered to both lines by little dashed lines, though they continued below and above, too

“We exist in the 3rd dimension, and experience the 4th as time. Our souls, for lack of a more precise term, are the conduit that allows us to do so. But sever that connection…” and the line between the dot and 4 snapped, and the green light abruptly snapped down to the 3, and flickered out, leaving a dull little lump.

“Did you just kill Malfoy?” Ron said, sounding at least half mock-horrified, and Snape snorted a laugh.

“Yes. But only metaphorically. But since you are concerned, here, we will back up.” The little green light obediently un-died and bounced up to it’s previous spot, between the two lines. “What if this line is cut, here?”

The line below snapped, and the little green light smashed into the 4th line, and disappeared with a pop.

“Where did it go?” Hermione demanded, her focus burning.

“That, Miss Granger, I actually don’t know. From our point of view, Mister Malfoy is just as dead. Metaphorically. I have my suspicions, and if we all live through the next week, I’ll let you pick my brain until I’m tempted to kill you with your inkwell. For now, though, I want to propose a different scenario.”

The green light came back, pulsing sullenly. “Oh, quit complaining,” Snape said to it, and then cut both strings at the same time.

The dot popped with a hollow boom, leaving a little ripped hole surrounded by purple tendrils, whirling slowly. The hole didn’t seem to go anywhere, just a rip into nothing. It seemed to be pulling little globs of stuff from both of the lines as it wandered.

“... Is that a Dementor?” I said. The hole made me a little sick to look at.

Snape sounded sad. “Almost. Watch.”

Something moved, behind the darkness, in the nothing, and then a long thin tongue the color of nightmare slipped through the rip, searching for and then and spearing into the 3rd dimension and lapping at the drops. It pulled back, and then there was a scrabbling I could feel in my bones as whatever it was scratched at the tear, trying to make it bigger. A nail caught on the hole, a color I couldn’t bear looking at, unnatural and unexplainable, and whatever it was roared when it couldn’t get through, the sound existing in places I didn’t.

I couldn’t breathe, and everything in me wanted to run, but all I could do was freeze and hope desperately that it didn’t see me.

“ _That_ is a Dementor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Sammi, Crow, and H for thumping on this until it made at least a little bit of sense.
> 
> What'cha think? Any surprises? Anything make you say "I KNEW IT?" Anybody hate this one?


	21. Chapter 21

I felt Snape’s body slump as he pulled us back to the cabin, and had a distant awareness of the four of us sinking down in an untidy pile against the wall, his skin under my hands warming as he sucked in a shuddering breath.

I could smell the faint pine-and-iron smell of Remus before he got to us, his fingers light and quick as he pressed the back of his hand to my cheek, and then checking the others. I wanted to help, but my body felt like it was made of lead. He pulled a blanket over the tangle of our legs.

The fear had drained away once I had felt my own body, safe and sound, but the concept was still banging around in my head, looking for a way out. I rolled my head with great difficulty, dragging the wool of Snape’s robe against my cheek. Ron and Hermione were moving slowly themselves. Snape’s hand dropped heavily on my hair, petting it clumsily. I could feel his twitch as he stopped himself from doing the same to Ron on the other side.

Hermione was sprawled face down half on Snape, half on Ron, one of her hands balled up in the fabric of my shirt. She lifted her head off of Snape’s chest and then let it fall like it was too heavy, driving a wheeze out of him.

“Well, I feel entirely wrung out,” she said, her voice muffled.

“The lassitude will fade shortly,” Snape murmured. His eyes were shut, head tipped back against the wall, his hair in tangled strands. 

Ron was staring at Snape’s hand, his eyes half lidded. “While that was terrifying and all, it still doesn’t explain why _you_ are becoming a Dementor. Who’s cutting your strings?”

Snape grunted, and lifted one eyelid to glare at Ron, but it was half-hearted at best. “You’re as persistent as she is. You don’t want time to absorb all that?”

It took Ron two tries, but he managed to roll his head to look at Snape. “No. Sick of waiting. If we’re stuck flat for a few, spill it.”

Remus laughed from his spot on the couch. “Easier when you can wave your hand and silence them, eh, Sev? He’s got a point, might as well talk since you can’t pace around like a bat.” He giggled, sounding drunk. 

Zil’s head was resting in Remus’ lap, feet kicked up on the armrest. “Yes, do tell.” He was playing with some kind of toy, a cube within a cube, spinning it so it turned inside-out in a way that made my eyes cross to look at it. 

Snape shifted, pushing himself up the wall a little bit with great effort, Hermione sliding off onto Ron’s lap, where she seemed much happier.

“And if you are turning, I need to know what the chances are that we will, since you used that spell on us.”

His hand stiffened in my hair, and then went back to slowly petting. “Technically, I never performed the bottling spell on you. That was a necessary deception.”

She scowled at him for a moment. “It felt awful anyway.”

I didn’t want to think about it. The feeling of my magic peeling away from my insides, over and over, was a frequent background note to my nightmares. I pushed it away the same way I always did when I was awake, locking it away behind a door that would pop open as soon as I fell asleep. There were a lot of things behind that particular door.

The hand in my hair paused, and then his fingers slid down to the back of my neck, his hand almost warm. The touch of his fingers thrummed through me, and I took the distraction. 

“They never were in danger of turning,” Snape said, and Zil laughed.

“Oh, you are _so_ very sure of yourself. How many times have you done your surgery? Four? Between your little miscalculation with Cupcake, and your own ruin of a soul, I’d say they’ve got a one in four chance, at best.” 

_Cupcake_?

My wave of indignation at the nickname was dwarfed by the bitter, dark laugher rolling out of Snape. “Four? No. I’ve performed it on four people. A single, short term bottling causes almost no permanent damage, as far as I’ve been able to tell. Repeated applications do have a negative effect, but I only have my own data point there. I’ve only performed it on one undamaged soul to begin with, and Ron seems no worse for wear.”

Ron managed some outrage at that outright lie. “Yeah, I’m right as rain. Peachy, in fact. Entirely untouched by this ordeal.”

Hermione’s snort of laughter was swallowed by Ron’s jumper.

“From a soul point of view, you’re bruised, nothing more. In a few months there will be no sign of it at all. I can’t say the same for the rest of us, but then, we were damaged going into this.”

“Repeated applications? Why would you need - How many times did you cast it on yourself?” Remus said, eyes wide.

“Five-hundred and thirty four,” Snape said evenly, and Remus choked on the plum wine he was drinking. A curl of dark amusement rolled from Snape as Remus mopped at his shirt and Zil’s damp, surprised face.

The shock of it made me lift my head, staring at him. Over five _hundred_ times? I shook my head, unable to conceive of going through it once more, let alone over and over again. The look on Ron’s face must have matched mine, because Zil frowned at Snape again, sitting up and waving himself dry of the sticky drink.

“Their reactions are telling. Did your self-loathing evolve into masochism in the last decade or did you have a purpose to your punishment?”

Ron pushed up a little more, putting another inch between himself and Snape. Hermione didn’t bother, just rolled so she could at least see the rest of us, paying as much attention to laying on Snape’s legs as she would a particularly lumpy pillow.

I could have pushed off of him. He had lifted his hand from my neck to let me do just that. Instead, I put my head back down, still frowning. His hand slowly came to rest against my hair, like a nervous creature.

“The Coraxis,” Ron said suddenly, “Children of your soul, you said.”

I looked around for Brae, who was nowhere to be found. Frowning, I shut my eyes and _looked for him_ along those ties inside us, not particularly carrying that I could feel the rattly buzz it sent through everyone in the room. I thought perhaps he’d be in the back, or outside, but my touch ran farther and farther, following the little Brae string until I could hardly feel it.

I got a surprised reply after a few long, painfully silent seconds. He was far, far away, but coming back, two wizards with him. He sent the image of the sun sinking before the connection shook itself apart. I felt like I could get it back, but I would wait. He implied he was ok and would be back soon.

I blinked open my eyes to see everyone looking at me.

“What? He’s my godson. I wanted to know he was ok,” I muttered, and Snape was thrumming with smug pride again.

Zil was staring at us, I could feel it. Every minute was bringing more strength back to my limbs, and I felt Hermione’s toes start wiggling under the blanket.

“You found him right through the wards,” Remus said, his voice soft and impressed.

“What? But… I just…” I groped for words I didn’t have, and fell silent, annoyed with myself.

“What else can they do, Severus?” Remus asked suddenly, his eyes bright. Snape held up a hand.

“Later. Can someone get us some tea, since you apparently have sent Brae off halfway across the world.”

“Across the - By _himself_?” I pushed myself up and almost immediately fell, Snape catching me as I pitched over. I ended up across his lap, my head propped up next to Hermione’s on Ron’s hip.

“Not quite yet, wait for your tea,” Hermione murmured, and I huffed but let it go for now, glaring at Remus. He raised his hands placatingly and wandered out of sight to the kitchen, putting the kettle on and finding mugs. 

“Brae is perfectly capable of protecting himself, I assure you. However, he is rather… conspicuous, at the moment. I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what you sent him off for?” Snape didn’t sound hopeful.

Remus shook his head, leaning on the table while he waited for the water to boil. “So not only did you sliver your soul to make the Coraxis, you pulled it out through your nose every time you did it? No wonder you’re so fragile.”

I felt Snape bristle at the word, but then slump again. “Essentially. Add to that this very nice nearly real corporeal body Harry made, and my soul is stretched fairly thin.”

The kettle whistled, and Remus made tea, dumping sugar into it despite Snape’s protest and then crossing his arms and waiting for us to drink it all. I sat up against the wall, leaning against Snape’s shoulder. Snape made a face at the sweetened drink, and downed the mug in one go before handing it back.

It took me a few sips to get my own tea down, but I did feel much better after. The lead was almost gone from my body. Hermione sat up, taking the blanket with her, and sipped at her tea, her escaped hair a sideways cloud.

“Explain that to me,” she ordered calmly, “We’ve been caught up in all this fire and calamity, but how _did_ we trap you, anyway? I’m setting aside my questions about how Harry managed to build a functional body when he’s honestly rubbish at transfigurations, because that just… doesn’t bear looking at yet. One rule-shattering revelation at a time.”

Zil was still staring at us, his hand propped on his chin. I tried not to feel intimidated by his unblinking gaze. Snape’s knee pressed against mine, warm and solid, as he shifted to address her. His hand dropped to his side, and the backs of his fingers slid over my hip.

“I sent Brae with you, not because I intended to spy, but because I was concerned that there would be… repercussions to Harry absorbing both souls. I had intended him to make sure you were settled and safe, and then return to me. But he quickly reported that all was not well.”

I snorted. “Is this before or after I blew up the camp?”

His eyes cut to me, and then away. “Before.” 

“But why were you even lurking about in his head? You said you were intending to let us go.” She narrowed her eyes at him, staring him down through the steam rising from her mug of sweet tea. 

He hesitated, and I could feel his reluctance to go on. The memory of a dream bubbled up from a few days ago; his fingers in my mouth, his hand clenched in my hair. Watching his face from eyes blurry with tears, desperate for his touch, for his voice, the ice only melting under his hand. 

“I pulled you to me, not the other way around,” I said, and he inclined his head. I shut my eyes, letting my head thunk back against the wall. 

“What?” sputtered Ron, “ _Why_?”

I opened my eyes to glare at him for a second before it faded. I sighed. “I don’t know. It wasn’t intentional. I thought it was just dreams.” I pulled my legs up, crossing my arms over my knees. “Can’t even sleep right,” I grumbled, and his hand found the curve of my back.

Zil clucked his tongue and sat back, picking up his weird cube thing again, fiddling with it as if the long stillness built up nervous energy in him. “I think I see the way of it now. You tied their souls to yours, forgetting that it also tied yours to them. And then you set them free, except for your visits-”

Snape scowled at him. “What would you have had me do? I couldn’t cut the connection with him so unstable. Brae couldn’t get there in time because of all the blasted wards on the camp, unless he wanted to fold into existence right in Dumbledor’s _lap_ , and I can’t imagine they would have given him time to get Harry sorted out. My intent was only to calm him and stabilize him until Brae could get to the fire pit, but -”

“But you miscalculated, again,” Zil rolled to his feet, tossing the cube over his shoulder at Remus without looking to see if he caught it, which he did, but barely, and it seemed to keep rolling out of his grip. He quickly set it on the table, wiping his hands on his pants like his hands felt weird.

Zil crouched in front of us, so he was at eye level with Snape, reaching forward and tipping his head up with a touch under his sallow chin. Blotchy red patches stained Snape’s face. “Come now, can’t look me in the eye? How many other miscalculations will we find before we are through, hm?” His hand slid down to cup Snape’s jaw, his thumb brushing across thin, bloodless lips.

“You say your plan will work, but you’re not even sure you’re going to live till the end of it, are you?” His voice was soft, terrible, gentle, his thumb making circles over Snape’s cheek. Snape swallowed hard. I felt like I should move away, like this deserved some kind of privacy, but I was stuck to the spot, close enough to see the sweat bead up in his hairline, to see his pulse thud at the base of his neck.

I felt no anger at all from Zil, only exasperation and concern. He was barefoot, barely taller than Hermione, but I had no doubt that he was the one in control here. 

Snape finally met Zil’s piercing gaze, his eyes dry, a banked spark burning somewhere deep within. His nostrils flared as he fought to keep his breathing even.

“There you are.” Zil smiled, softly, his hand patting Snape’s cheek before tucking Snape’s hair behind his ear, which made his eye twitch immediately. “Now, you and I have something to settle, and I suspect you would rather have it over and done with by the time the others get here in a few hours. If you’d rather they witness-”

Snape’s head shook, once. He glanced at me, and Zil followed his eyes, looking at me and then back at Snape with a little twist. “That’s up to them, not you. Right?”

My heart thudded, my eyes stuck on the way Zil’s fingers dented the soft skin under his jaw. It took me a second to realize Zil was looking at me. “You can stay and watch, or leave, as you wish. Ah, no, don’t look at him, this is your choice. I’m insisting Little Dog stay, but I will give you three the choice.”

He must have seen apprehension in my eyes, because he leaned forward to ruffle my hair. “Don’t worry, Cupcake, I promise he’s done worse to you as a matter of course. But you being here to witness it is as much of the punishment as the blows.”

Snape’s eyes slid shut with a relieved shiver, and Zil threaded his fingers through his lank, tangled hair, brushing the strands off his forehead, turning away from us like we didn’t exist. 

Remus pulled at my arm, and I followed him back to the couch that stretched to easily sit four. Hermione walked herself over to her spot on the couch and tucked her feet under her, her lips set in a hard line.

There was a moment, as I met Ron’s eyes where we both could have turned, walked out the door, gone across to his cabin and gotten drunk, or played snap, or, or...

The moment passed. We sat down on the couch. 

The purple highlights in Zil’s hair flashed as he leaned in, touching his forehead to Snape’s, murmuring softly. I saw Snape’s throat work as he swallowed, and his hands clenched in the fabric of his robe. Shame and anticipation and rage flickered off of him like sparks, and I blinked as I realized he was actively trying to cut us off from what he was feeling, but couldn’t manage it.

Zil’s hand cupped the back of Snape’s head, and I heard the low rumble of Snape asking him something, desperation leaking around the edges of his voice.

The smaller man sat back on his heels, thinking about whatever Snape had requested, and then nodded. “Very well. If I had more time I’d say you could do without and you’d accept that, yes?” 

Snape nodded jerkily, and Zil stepped back, glancing at Remus, who tossed one of the pillows from the couch out on the rug. Snape stared at it, jaw set, before he rolled to his knees and tried to stand.

“Ach!” snapped Zil, and Snape glared at him, but sank back to his knees and knee-walked to the spot next to the pillow, which he then glared at with just as much rancor. Humiliation ran from him, jaw clenched tight. 

“Waiting for an invitation?” Zil walked behind him and swatted his arse, knocking him forward onto his hands and knees. He grunted, and I saw his fingers dig into the rug for a heartbeat before he pushed himself back up and knelt on the cushion. 

He glanced across the rug at the four of us, and I felt some of that black, poisonous guilt claw at him. He twisted his neck to loosen it a few times, and took a shuddering breath that smoothed as he exhaled, his eyes sliding shut as he pulled himself into a rough wait position, hands at his side.

The first thought that popped through my head was that his form was bad, and he must have caught it, because his head twitched toward me, lip curled into a sneer before he caught himself and moved into a much better wait, his back straight, his hands palm up on his thighs. 

Zil walked a circuit around him, anticipation winding the room like a spring, ending by stopping in front of him, clucking his tongue at Snape’s defiantly unbowed head. Snape looked up at him, desperate need and ratcheting anxiety spiking as Zil reached out and drew a shimmery grey circle on Snape’s forehead. All of the sensations welling out of him cut off abruptly. More than just his feelings, my _sense_ of him deadened, like being blinded. I sat back on the couch, rubbing my damp palms on my shirt. 

Snape sagged against the floor like his strings had been cut. 

Zil looked down at the shape crumpled at his feet, something alien and hungry washing over his face and shivering through him, rolling out through his feet and rebounding through the cabin. A faint hypnotic pulse teased just below my hearing, the glass in the windows shivering in time to the slow beat. Zil glanced around at the lamps, and they flickered and turned themselves off, leaving Snape in the square of golden afternoon sun coming in the front window.

Snape’s absence in my mind was deafening. The others felt it as well; Ron grunted and leaned in to whisper something to Hermione. I got a faint, distant < ! _??_ > from Brae, and sent back an all is well, which he disbelieved but accepted. Next to me, Remus relaxed with a sigh, rubbing at his forehead. I shifted closer to him, fear and fascination rolling in my stomach, picking at the numb place inside me like a scab. He draped an arm over me, and I gratefully leaned into his shoulder, Ron’s hand a comforting warmth on my knee. 

“Sev can’t hear us,” Remus said quietly, “Though I’d be surprised if Zil took his voice. Zil likes it when he yells.” He looked over to see all of us staring at him, and shook his head at our expressions. “You look like you’re about to watch an execution. From what I’ve gathered, you’ve been through worse at his hands, you don’t want to see him get a little in return?”

“Deserves more than a little,” Ron said, his voice low. “This just seems… I’m not used to him being the one on his knees.”

Hermione sniffed, and crossed her arms over her chest, staring at the crumpled form on the rug. “Corporal punishment has never been shown to change behavior, so beyond satisfying Zil’s sadism, this is nothing more than revenge,” she said, but the tone of righteousness was ruined by the flush high on her cheeks.

“Zil’s sadism, hm?” Remus commented softly, and she looked at him, mouth open in indignation before she closed it with a little click, fiddling with her pen. “Zil’s sadism actually has little to do with this. This is for Sev’s benefit, not his. And not, despite appearances, for ours. Although I’m absolutely not above enjoying this on every level,” he said, his smile wolfish for just a moment.

I stared at the line of Snape’s shoulder as he pushed himself back into a kneel, looking unsteady. I felt off balance being cut off from just him, I wondered how much worse being cut off from all of us felt. The weird feeling in my stomach grew, making me want to squirm. 

He didn’t drop his head, but he didn’t meet Zil’s gaze, either. Zil tucked his hair behind his ear again, and an impish grin bloomed across his face when Snape twitched at the feeling of it on his neck. “You do so hate to be exposed, more than anything, don’t you?” he said, moving behind Snape, dragging his warm brown hands over the tar-black hair. He gathered it up slowly, combing it back from Snape’s face with gentle fingers, exposing his ears, twisting all of it into a wrist thick tail halfway up his scalp and binding it with a click of his fingers.

Humiliation burned in Snape’s cheeks, the tips of his ears bright red. The sunlight gave his fishbelly skin the illusion of warmth, the darkest shadows lit with reflected glow. A few broken strands of hair escaped to trail down his face like dripping ink. Zil’s lips tipped up in a fond smirk, and he shot a wink at us, out of sight of Snape’s burning face. 

It was ridiculous that it felt more sexual to see the back of his neck than his cock, but I had seen his cock a hundred times. I had never once touched the back of his neck. The squirmy feeling in my gut crept lower, watching Snape fight to keep still as Zil wound his hand into his hair, slowly winching his head back until his face was turned up to the rafters, the long white line of his throat against the dark purple of Zil’s shirt.

Zil’s fingers came walking around the curve of his throat, the nails gone talon sharp, each touch denting the thin skin. I felt goosebumps run along my own neck and swallowed as the back of one sharp nail trailed down his skin to the thumping pulse just visible above the robe. 

The talon turned, caught the button and pulled until the thread let go with a tiny pop. He caught the black button between his fingers, and hummed, walking back around to Snape’s side without letting go of his grip on his hair. Zil patted his thigh, like you would call a dog, and an ottoman shook itself out of the carpet and sat, wagging its tassels as Zil settled on it. He arched Snape backward over his thigh as casually as you would an empty coat you were inspecting, Snape’s scrambling to hold himself up only to have his hand nudged it out from under him by Zil’s foot. He flailed for a second, and then stilled, breathing hard, held up only by the hand in his hair. If Zil let go, Snape would fall, and the vulnerability of it made him grit his teeth.

Zil shook his head at the broken thread on the robe, tisking. “We’ve damaged Little Dog’s robe. That wasn’t very hospitable of us, was it?”

Snape’s eyes opened a hair. “This is your nest, you fucking serpent,” he growled, “Lupin squats in here like the stray he is.”

Remus huffed a laugh. “He’s not wrong, but he hasn’t dropped either. This is going to be more entertaining than I thought.”

Zil slid the button down Snape’s jaw and down the tense neck, the edge leaving a faint pink line. He bumped it over the collar of the robe, and all the way down his arm, catching his lax hand and pulling his arm out straight.

“Here, you hold the buttons, I wouldn’t want to lose any of them,” Zil said, and carefully set the button in the center of Snape’s upright palm. “AH, no, I didn’t say you could close your hand. Nice and flat for me, please.”

I winced, remembering more than one evening spent with muscles shaking with exhaustion, desperately trying to hold whatever deceptively simple position he had put me in.

Snape grimaced, but his hand stayed flat, the button in the center of his palm like a bullet hole.

“That’s a good boy, Severus,” Zil murmured, and I almost groaned as I watched the words jolt through Snape, his bare toes flexing in the shadow beneath them.

Zil dragged his nails along Snape’s outstretched arm, catching at the folds of cloth, taking a small lifetime to get to the second button. It popped as easily, and Zil set it next to the first. “Only about thirty to go, that’s not so bad, is it? You can hold that long, can’t you?” Zil looked down into his face and tapped the tip of his nose. “Manage to not drop any until I’m done stripping you, and that’ll be the end of it, how about that?”

I saw Snape narrow his eyes, and wondered if it had been so long since anyone had turned any of his tricks against him when he nodded as much as Zil’s grip would allow. I glanced at Ron, and he shook his head, his eyes hot. Hermione’s fingers were tangled in the fabric of his shirt, her eyes on Zil’s easy control of Snape.

Another button joined the little pile in Snape’s palm, the robe gaping open.

“What did you mean, he hasn’t dropped?” I said to Remus, partially to distract myself. It was too warm in the cabin by half. The windows thumped, vibrating the late afternoon sun into blurry smears.

“Into subspace?” Remus looked over at me, brows drawn and then sighed, dragging the back of his fingers across my shoulders. “I forget that you’ve been introduced to all of this under the worst of circumstances.” He looked back across at Zil, who had opened the buttons halfway down Snape’s chest, the pile in his hand growing. I could see the beginnings of a tremble in his arm, the cuff hanging below the extended hand shivering.

I nudged Remus’s shoulder, encouraging him to go on. I could tell the others were listening, though at this point I think Remus could have transformed into the wolf and none of us would have looked away from Zil’s careful, gentle undoing.

“The other night, when, uh-” he trailed off, his fingers pausing their slow caress.

“When I almost convinced you to fuck me before I set the bed on fire,” I suggested absently, and Ron snorted, not looking away from the spectacle in front of us.

“Ahem, yes. A little prior to that, actually. Do you remember going all soft and boneless and pliant for me, after you promised not to taunt the wolf?” His thumb brushed under my ear, where the pulse thumped against his skin.

Hermione made a little noise next to me as Snape’s arm dipped, the tremble getting worse as Zil started working the buttons along Snape’s belly, peeling the black robe open to bare pale flesh beneath. The pile of buttons in his hand shifted, one rolling down the space between his fingers, but he twitched, and none fell. 

“I remember,” I said thickly, remembering the weight of him pressing me into the bed, the unnatural heat of his mouth on my skin, sucking and licking my nipples until I couldn’t think anymore.

Remus exhaled, the noise backed with a rumbling, approving noise. Next to Ron, Hermione’s forehead had a faint sheen of sweat building, her fingers clenching in Ron’s shirt. “Well, I can’t be sure because we were so rudely interrupted, but it felt like you dropped into an altered state of consciousness sometimes called subspace. It’s … a very vulnerable place to be in, as you tend to lose judgement about what is best for yourself.”

I watched a mote of dust disappear into his shadow, only to reappear on the other side, like a leaf floating on a stream.

Zil had gotten to the buttons just above Snape’s groin. Snape’s hand was full of buttons, his eyes shut tight, sweat dripping down into his tightly-pulled hair. The tremble in his arm was so bad that the buttons shifted in his palm like a handful of tadpoles.

Zil’s nail drew a slow line down the swell of Snape’s cock. Zil looked over at us and bloomed with a devilish grin, his green eyes sparking with mischief as he turned his wrist suddenly and gripped Snape’s cock hard, pressing the line between undone and buttoned up.

The buttons hit the ground like hard rain as Snape jerked.

“Sev can’t go down without a fight,” Remus said quietly, and Snape roared, twisting his way off Zil’s lap, hand coming up to grab at the fist Zil had in his hair.

“Ah, I wondered when you’d stop pretending you were well behaved!” Zil said merrily as he shifted easily to his feet, holding Snape at arm’s length with no apparent effort with the hand wrapped in his hair, holding his head low enough that Snape couldn’t get to his feet. Snape’s robe gaped to the waist, and Zil pulled at the sleeve as Snape tried to trip him over the ottoman, slipping out of the way.

Snape was spitting curses in several languages, none of which I knew, yanking his arm free of the loose sleeve, his shoulder and chest a white slash as they turned again. I clenched my hand on the couch, and Remus rubbed my shoulder soothingly.

I could feel nothing from Snape, but around me swirled a rich soup of lust and confusion and anger, peppered with sharp, hot vengeance. I couldn’t even tell who was feeling what. My heart thumped in my chest to the same beat that rattled the windows.

Zil slapped Snape’s chest open-handed on the next turn, which blossomed into a handprint. Snape grunted and swung with his other arm, and Zil caught the sleeve as it went by, Snape’s own momentum pulling his arm free, leaving his upper body bare.

Another slap, this one to the back of Snape’s shoulder, the handprint red against the spoiled-milk white of his skin, making him hiss, tripping as the robe slipped down one hip. Zil twisted his hand hard, Snape turning rather than letting his neck snap, though it looked like he thought about it, and had no choice other than to step out of the puddled robe as it slipped off of him, leaving him only in the green pajama pants Remus had leant him.

Zil’s next slap caught Snape in the back of the thigh, the slap only slightly muffled by the thin cloth.

“Kneeling to me when I’m this size really gets to you, doesn’t it?” Zil commented as Snape wound his hand in Zil’s shirt and tried to pull him down. “Or is it because _they_ can see you? How _humiliating_ for you, brought low in front of your own?”

Zil kicked Snape’s knees out from under him, and he crashed onto the carpet on his hands and knees, Zil letting his grip on Snape’s hair go as he fell. Before Snape could get back up, Zil crouched and grabbed both of his wrists, yanking them above his head far enough that his knees came off the ground. He held him there with no apparent effort, bringing their faces level to drop a tiny kiss on Snape’s hooked nose before lowering him back to his knees and pressing his wrists to the empty air as if it were a wall.

He stepped back, and Snape’s wrists stuck in place, though he yanked at them desperately, skin wet with sweat, stray hairs stuck across his face like black veins. Shame burned in his cheeks, his eyes stubbornly closed tight, his chest heaving. The handprints stood out on his skin like paint.

“Miscalculated how long you could hold those buttons for, did you?” Zil said from behind Snape, and shook his head, tisking again. Snape’s jaw clenched, and he opened his eyes, glaring over his shoulder without turning.

“You cheated,” he rasped, and Zil’s laughter rolled through the cabin.

“Of course I did. But since when do you kneel so prettily for me with no fuss?” 

Snape grimaced and looked at the rug. His brow was still a dark line, his jaw clenched so hard I could see the muscles clenching under the skin.

Zil shook his arm, and a long green flogger unrolled into his palm from nowhere, the tails wide and soft looking. He spun it through the air a few times, and I shifted on the couch, shame rippling through me as the smell of the leather made my cock hard.

Harder. If I was being honest with myself, I had been hard as soon as Snape’s knees hit the ground.

Remus hummed next to me, nuzzling my hair aside to murmur in my ear. “I like that smell, too. Or is it the instrument that made you twitch?” He drew a finger down the back of my neck. “Or both?”

I shivered. “Both,” I admitted, and his eyes shut for just a moment, and dropped a hand to his lap, adjusting his trousers. I could see the thickness of his cock trapped against his leg, and slid my hand over his thigh, my fingertips just shy of touching the bulge.

His eyes popped open, and he huffed a laugh, his cock thickening further to nudge at my fingers.

Zil draped the tails of the flogger over Snape’s back, letting the heavy black handle hang over his shoulder as he shooed the friendly ottoman out of the way and cracked his hands, loosening up. Snape shivered like a hippogriff with a fly, his throat working as he swallowed. 

“A flogger? All I’ve done, and that’s what you’re going with?” he sneered as Zil came around in front of him. “After the wallop you gave me earlier, I expected the bullwhip, or the cane at least. You really have gone soft.”

Hermione frowned. “He’s trying to make it worse.” 

“Sounds like you,” Ron said to me, and Remus looked at me thoughtfully. I blushed and pushed my glasses up my nose.

“Oh, I know you’d prefer something harder, but you’ll have to indulge me. It’s been, what, more than a decade since I got my hands on you?” Zil ran his hand over Snape’s hair, petting the wild strands back from his face. Snape jerked his head away, teeth bared, snapping at the hand that reached for his face again.

Zil’s hand moved faster than I could see, grabbing him tight around the jaw. Snape yelped and tried to hide it in a grunt. “Gonna bite me? Gonna draw blood?” His voice had an edge to it, low and hard. His fingers dug in, and I saw Snape’s defiance crack, pain crinkling the corner of his eyes. “Won’t do you any good. You get what I give you, not what you want.” 

He pushed Snape’s head away from him as he stood, taking up the handle of the flogger and dragging the full length of the tails across his shoulder. I could hear the soft patter as each of the strands fell free, saw Snape twitch and shiver as the leather slid against the naked skin of his neck. Each tail forked near the tip, the ends only finger-wide.

Zil ran the flogger through his hand a few times as he walked behind Snape, the ends flickering like the tip of the monstrous snake tongue, and then brought it down hard against his own thigh. Snape’s shoulders hunched, his head dropping forward and then pulling back up stubbornly. He wasn’t looking at us, eyes mostly closed. He wet his lips, his tongue red against his pale lips. 

The flogger swished through the air an inch from his back and thwacked against Zil’s side, the noise making Snape flinch. Another swish, another near miss, and Snape rolled his eyes, growling “If you’re going to faff around maybe Miss Gra-” 

Zil cut off the sarcasm with a brutal backhanded stripe diagonally across his back, the tongues wrapping around his ribs to kiss red marks into the hollow of his hip. The blow caught Snape mid-word. For a single heartbeat, it knocked the perpetual scowl right off of his face, his mouth dropping open, his eyes sliding shut.

I had seen him fast asleep. Passed out drunk on firewhiskey, unconscious from injury or magic or potions. I had seen him gasping with orgasm, roaring with anger, begging for the Coraxis’ lives. I thought I had seen every expression that his face could possibly hold, but…

I did not know this face. 

The anger ate the peace off his face like a werewolf pushing out of his skull, the Snape I knew snarling and twisting against the bonds only to be caught on the other side by another lick, pushing him back into place.

The thwack of the tails on his skin made me sweat, shoulders twitching against Remus’s arm, my fingers briefly clenching on his thigh, squeezing down on his cock. 

He grunted, moving his hand to the back of my neck. “Easy, easy. Don’t damage the merchandise,” he murmured, but his hips twitched like he was having trouble staying still.

“Those two don’t even count against your total. Get back into position or I’ll leave you there just like that until Brae and your generals get here.” Zil snapped.

His head snapped up, his eyes wide and panicked. “Which generals?” he asked, craning his neck to look at Zil. When no answer came from the shadow behind him, he looked to us, barely visible in the darkness. “Lupin. _Who?”_

“You can’t hear them, remember?” Zil said lightly, and gently nudged him back into place with a few well placed taps. Snape didn’t even seem to be paying attention, moving without question, trying to get Zil to tell him which generals were coming.

Zil laughed, and I saw Snape close his eyes, his eyebrows drawing in. The cabin thrummed discordantly, and Zil clucked his tongue and snapped the tips of the tails against his arse, and the thrum cut off. Zil grabbed his ponytail and yanked his head back so he could look him in the face.

“You behave for ten, and I’ll tell you one of the names. You take the other ten, and you’ll have the second name. If you continue to, what was it, ‘faff around’? Then you won’t need the names because Brae will have folded them onto our doorstep. He said sunset, and look at that?” He twisted his hand, using the fist in Snape’s hair to make him turn his head, the sunlight pouring over his face like acid. “The sun is only a few hand-lengths from the horizon.”

He let go of Snape’s head, and stood there, arms folded, waiting to see what Snape would do. Snape swallowed, his breath sawing out of him. He already was dotted with marks, the handprint on his chest starting to blur, but the red welts from the tips of the flogger only darkening with every minute.

Snape trembled all over, searching Zil’s face with dark, wet eyes.

And then he dropped his head.

I wasn’t breathing, my eyes locked on his body as the fight drained out of him, relaxing into the bonds holding him up instead of fighting them.

“That’s a good boy, Severus,” Zil purred, running his hand over his bowed head, and Severus took a shuddering breath and let it out, his knees sliding apart when Zil nudged them, compliant and still.

Hermione made a noise, and I managed to tear my eyes away to see her leaning back on Ron’s chest, one of his hands moving under her shirt, her hand stroking him slowly through his pants. She looked at me, biting her lip, and I leaned over and dropped a kiss on her thigh. She gave me a ghost of a smile before Ron drove another whine from her, and turned back to the show.

My cock was so hard it ached, but it was the snap of the flogger as Zil laid down three precise strokes that I wanted. I dug my nails into my thigh, and Remus moaned, losing his fight to not press his cock against my hand.

The first three made him twitch, the second three, laid the other way, made him jerk. His head still hung limp, his expression hidden in the sharp shadows cut by the setting sun.

Zil paused, running a hand down his back, making him snort and shy like a horse. “Shhhh, doing such a good job for me,” Zil murmured, and I decided that it was completely, utterly, impossibly ridiculous that this was as hot as it was, and my throat was tight like I was about to cry. Clearly we were all damaged beyond repair.

The cabin’s low beat sped up as Zil laid down the last four, laying them diagonal, the thud as the tails hit followed by the snap of the forked tip a half-moment later.

Severus groaned as Zil dropped the flogger and stepped close, dragging his hands down welted skin, wrapping his arms around Severus’s bent shoulders, speaking to him so quietly I couldn’t make it out. Severus’s voice rumbled a question I couldn’t make out, words slow and slurred.

Zil kissed his temple, and then whistled to the ottoman, which sprung up from where it had been dozing and happily laid down in front of Severus. Zil reached up and unstuck his hands from the air, slowly lowering them and helping him lean forward, pulling his knees wide and back so his thighs relaxed. His hands shook as he curled them around the cushion, holding tight, but Zil gently pulled them away and bound them with a loop of green material he pulled from nowhere.

Severus sighed, and turned his head to the side, his eyes closed, his eyelashes black stains against the purple shadows under his eyes.

My chest hurt. I figured it must be because I wasn’t breathing, but I was breathing like I had run up a staircase. My eyes wouldn’t leave his face, calm and still, looking younger than he had even in the shack. His skin was wet, darkening the fabric of the ottoman. I bit back a moan as Zil slid Severus’s pants off, the hairs dusting his body turned gold by the setting sun.

Zil scooped the flogger off the ground and snapped his wrist, the tails dissolving into iridescent green mist, leaving behind a long black cane, the highlight a shimmering violet when he swung it through the air, the swish of it unmistakeable.

I saw Severus shudder all over and almost melt into the cushion. His eyes blinked open when Zil tested the cane against his own leg and actually drove a yelp out of himself, but they slid shut again when Zil slid the cane over his back, letting him feel it against the welts.

“Just ten more, little one. You don’t have to fight, just lay there like a good boy, hm?” Zil’s voice sounded the way drinking hot cocoa felt after a snowball fight.

Severus nodded slowly, rubbing his face against the fabric and sighing like a cooling kettle.

Zil stepped to the side but didn’t back up, measuring out his strikes across the meat of his arse and down his thighs. “You’re getting them straight through. You’ve taken risk after risk, with not only your soul, but every one of those in your care. Every miscalculation brings you closer to oblivion.”

Zil swished the cane through the air one last time, flattening his other hand across Severus’s lower back, petting his fingers across the reddened skin gently.

“At some point you’re going to have to learn to ask for help.”

The cane whistled through the air, leaving a purple blur before it cracked against his ass. The blow drove a yelp from him, his hands spasming. The black of the cane left a stark white line across his reddened ass, like a negative. 

The second strike came just under the first, and it rolled through him and out his mouth as a strangled-off sob. Remus whined somewhere deep in his throat, sympathetic and hungry, and I burned with lust and envy and confusion, only not desperately wanking because every muscle in my body was tense waiting for the next strike. The first line had gone blood red, the second still ghost white.

“Let go of it,” Zil murmured, and he slashed the cane down again giving him no time to recover before laying down six in a row, each blow meticulously placed until Severus broke, his legs kicking, the seventh falling across already bruising skin.

Severus wailed, the noise bursting out of him like water from a failing dam, overwhelmed and broken.

Zil dropped the cane and it was gone before it hit the ground, crouched at Severus’s side, sliding his hand over the back of his neck and flicking the bindings loose on both his hair and his wrists before pulling him into his arms, carefully not touching his welted ass. Severus clung to his shirt and cried, and Zil petted his forehead, wiping off the silvery circle.

Severus flooded back into my brain, pain-drunk and high out of his mind, guilt and ecstasy and remorse and gratitude blazing through the link, and I cried out, arching, coming hard, feeling Remus go off like a firework next to me, Ron and Hermione only a moment behind.

The sun was just kissing the horizon as my eyes fluttered shut, and I passed out cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I needed this chapter as much as Sev did. 
> 
> Thank you all who are holding on through all this madness. Finally not a cliffhanger chapter.... OR IS IT? :: does the Dr Evil Finger Thing ::
> 
> <3 <3 <3
> 
> Thanks to my betas who have been amazing, Sammi, Crow, and H. Thank Crow extra: they shook the pornjata and a few more candies fell out of this chapter. You should also go read their fic "Bitumen" which is terrible and wrong and wonderful. 
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/26076772


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

< **Up** now, Canelé. >

I hadn’t been out for very long, because the sun was still glowing just under the horizon like a banked fire when I pulled my head off of Remus’s lap in response to the gentle call. I must have fallen over. The wet spot on his trousers started more than halfway to his knee, and for a few seconds I just blinked fuzzily, my mouth dry and my pants soaked.

Someone had lit a few of the lamps, but left them low.

< Canelé? > I sent muzzily, and got back the impression of a tiny French rum cake striped with glaze yawning itself awake. It even had little round glasses.

Remus hadn’t stirred as I pushed myself up, his chest rising and falling in steady, even breaths, his head tipped over the back of the couch. Ron and Hermione were still out, too, wrapped around each other on the other end of the couch, his hand in her pants and her head tucked under his arm. I wondered why I was the first one up, and looked for Severus.

Or… Snape. I wasn’t sure anymore. 

I didn’t see him or Zil, but I felt a slight tug toward the back of the cabin, and padded that way, only somewhat surprised to see the three new doors in the hallway. The cabin must have sprouted a whole new branch, but it looked exactly the same, cozy and worn and still somehow smelling of Remus, though I should have long gone nose-blind to it by now.

I opened my door, intending to change into dry underwear, at least, when I felt a fizz of Zil’s magic, leaving me clean. < That’d be a waste, > he murmured into my head, sending another image of the little cake being cleaned of glaze by iridescent bubbles, and I found myself blushing as I realized that he had _eaten_ the mess I had made of my pants, rather than just vanishing it away. 

< Thanks? > I sent after a moment of indecision, and he pulsed amusement at me. The door next to mine unlatched and swung half open with a slow creak, the interior a dark shadow.

< Well that’s not creepy at _all_ , but I’m assuming you’re inviting me in? > I sent, unsure exactly what was happening in that room. I could feel him, and the weird not-space I could now identify as Zil, but I couldn’t decipher anything coming through the link. < Is he…? >

The door wagged, and I wondered what exactly they could be doing in there that could possibly shock me, and then almost hit myself for even thinking that. Hadn’t I learned better by now?

The room was dark, and only got darker once I stepped in and the door closed with a little snick, all trace of the squeak gone. I paused, waiting for my eyes to adjust. The room smelled like something that tugged at my memory, warm and rich and dark, pulling threads of desire through me even though I couldn’t place it.

I could just make out the long pale shape of him on the bed, a darker blur next to him. Zil clicked his fingers, and tiny candles flickered into existence, floating around the room.

His arse and thighs looked terrible, the bruises where the last strike had crossed the others already so purple it seemed black. I chewed my lip, staring at him, boneless on the bed, his hands open and relaxed. Even the perpetual knots usually visible between the ridges of his shoulder blades were gone. My skin twitched as if I could feel the sting and ache of the welts, and swallowed down an entirely unwelcome pang of jealousy. I watched him breathe for a long moment, wondering how long it had been since he really slept.

< I don’t want to wake him, > I sent finally, and Zil’s teeth flashed in the flickering light.

< Brae and his passengers will be here in a half hour. Severus will want to be composed by then. Normally, I prefer more time, but… > He trailed his hand over the tangle of black hair, and then raised his eyebrows and looked pointedly at the open side of the bed.

I slid into the bed carefully, not sure what I was supposed to do. My confusion rolled through the bond, and he frowned at me. < He’s caned you before? >

< Yeah. Not often, but enough. When I pushed. > It seemed so simple to say it now, after watching him do the same thing. 

< And after? He did not care for your marks? > Zil was frowning at his sleeping body, his hand stilling in it’s gentle caress. < He left you to come back to yourself alone? >

I started to nod, and then… stopped. A rapid-fire slideshow of moments came back to me; all the times he poured insults into my ear as he healed the welts and bruises he knew I wanted to keep, the spell on my bed that would catch anything he missed. Walking behind me as I stumbled into the bathing room, holding me tight by the back of the neck, putting out the light and sitting with me in the dark as I shook in the warm water. His arms around me, holding me as I fought, and I fought, and I _fought_ until I gave in. 

< I don’t know. I would have said yes, this morning. > I looked over at Zil, across the soft red blush of the flogging on his back. < I thought I knew what was going on. >

Zil pulsed sympathy. < Another thing for us to talk to him about once he’s awake. Well, he deserves to wake up with something better than an old snake, anyway. Needs something real. >

The bed was astonishingly comfortable, and I stretched out next to Severus on my side, leaving a couple of inches of bed between us. His face was turned toward me, peaceful and calm. It felt wrong to break that stillness, after I had seen what it took to put it there.

Zil’s hand slid over his hair again. < Do you hate him so? >

< I… don’t know. >

He nodded, as if we both didn’t know I was lying, and gestured like he was pulling a handful of pebbles across a table, his magic sliding me across the sheets to wash up against Severus’s side.

He hissed a breath, and I froze, but he shifted _toward_ me, not away. I found a patch of his back that wasn’t as red, and carefully draped my arm over him. He sighed, relaxing even further, his face nuzzling into my neck. 

< There we go, that’s better. > Zil flicked a blanket out of nowhere, setting it over us as he got up. I looked at him, slightly panicked, and he grinned. < Just hold him until he wakes up. There’s water on the sideboard, if you can get him to drink it. He’s unlikely to have the energy to molest you. >

I blushed. I wasn’t sure I had the energy to pretend I’d object, at the moment. 

The door squeaked as Zil shut it behind him, and the noise made him twitch in my arms. He rubbed his face into my hair, mumbling something, and I reached up and slid my hand over his head. 

The way he did to me.

A shiver rolled through my belly, the squirmy, weird feeling returning. His hair was rough against my palm. He stilled again, soft and heavy against me. I couldn’t see his face, buried in my hair, but his breath was slow and even. The bed really was comfortable…

I jerked awake when he rolled onto his side toward me, some amount of time later. The little candles cast hundreds of tiny shadows across his face as he raised his head to look at me blearily, and then hissed as he pulled sore skin.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he murmured.

I bent my arm under my head, the hair on my leg prickling against his as I shifted under the heavy quilt. “I’m pretty sure I was supposed to stay awake.”

He hummed, his eyes sliding closed again, like it was hard to keep them open. I had felt that so many times I couldn't count them at this point, and wished I could let him go back to sleep. But we were on a schedule, and I didn’t know how much time we had left. 

I slipped from the bed and got him water, and knee-walked across the expanse of green to settle on my knees at his side without thinking about it. His eyes were still closed. I frowned at my position, shifting to sit cross-legged on the bed next to him, and he slid toward me on the silk sheets as the mattress sagged, pulled into the gravity well around me. He sighed, his knees coming up behind me, curling around me so that his arse didn’t hit the bed.

“That old serpent left you here with me?” His voice was thick, and I nudged his hand with the glass. 

He didn’t take it. 

“He said you deserved better to wake up with an old snake, so at least you agree that he’s old and scaly. Have some water.” I nudged his hand again, and he retracted his arm under his body like an annoyed crab, curling his face into my knee. 

Hm. If Hermione were here, she’d order him to drink it, and I had no doubt he would. Looking down at him, as defenseless as I’d ever seen, I knew I couldn’t do it. I stuck the cup in the crook of my knee, and I rubbed the back of my hand across his cheek. 

He blinked up at me, eyes not entirely focused. 

My chest ached, and I pushed my glasses up, swallowing hard. “You back with me yet?” 

He blinked again, his eyelashes sticking together with dried tears. I brushed my finger over his eyelid, and he _let_ me, his breath gusting out warm against my knee. I didn’t… know what to do with him. The ache in my chest dripped down my spine, and I saw the tension ripple across him, his brow twitching into the ghost of a frown, his body pulling away just a little.

I slid my fingers into his hair, stroking his scalp like any other time I had given him a massage, chasing down the tension that had just bloomed. He melted against me, a soft little moan rumbling in his chest.

My eyes slid half shut, and I didn’t think about anything for a few minutes. He kept making these little happy _noises_ that sank into me like honey into hot tea, but my chest hurt more and more as the minutes passed, and I rolled my shoulders, wincing as it seemed to make it worse, rather than better.

He caught my discomfort, and blinked his eyes like he was actually waking up a little, frowning just a hair. He lifted his hand like it weighed a million pounds and reached for my face, and I leaned into his touch, his hand warm and rough and smelling like home.

The pain cut off so suddenly I jerked back, his hand falling into my lap to splash in the water. I rubbed my chest, feeling the absence of pain like a numb patch. Or maybe it _was_ a numb patch. The room swam a little, the colors going blurry and warm.

He sucked some of the water off his fingers, his eyes closed again. I licked my lips, heat flaring where the ache had been. I dunked my thumb in the water, and rubbed it over his lips. He opened just like that, and sucked it with a rumble of pleasure. His tongue rasped up the pad of my thumb, and I swallowed hard again. I tried to pull my thumb from his mouth, but he complained, shifting to follow the movement of my hand. I dipped a few fingers on my other hand and convinced him to switch. His tongue slid between my fingers, and I bit off a groan as I felt him swallow.

The moment he went from suckling water off my fingers to sucking my fingers like it was my cock I unrolled, pressing as much of myself up against him as I could without losing the sucking heat of his mouth. He clumsily grabbed the cup and for a moment I couldn’t remember what it was for.

Oh yeah, I was supposed to give him water.

I reeled his hand into my face and took a mouthful of water from the cup, leaning over him, sliding my fingers out and replacing them with my lips, feeding him sips of water as he opened to me, easy as that. My fingers, wet from his mouth, pushed into his hair to hold his head. The cup clattered to the floor as I kissed him, a desperate little hitch in my throat.

His lips were pliant against mine, receptive rather than demanding, letting the sweep of my tongue against his set the pace. His mouth tasted like my fingers, and I whimpered and chased the flavor with my tongue, drawing away to catch my breath after a few long minutes.

He was watching me. I dropped my eyes to his faintly swollen lips, and then lifted them again, unsure of what I was doing, or even what I _wanted_ to be doing. My hand was still in his hair, the warmth from his scalp soaking into my palm. I could feel a sleepy pulse of desire in him, but it was overlaid with bruised guilt, sparks of effervescent fear showering off him as I pressed closer to his body.

“You don’t have to-”

I leaned in, licking his mouth open, kissing him with more intent, turning it into a seduction with the tools he gave me. He didn’t think he deserved to touch me, that was plain. And maybe he was right. But for once it was just us in bed, no Bili or Taru, no Dark Lord’s shadow, no lessons, no rules. I wasn’t kissing the head of House Corvus, or Professor Snape, or Remus’s Sev… or even the Master he had been, somewhere in my head. This was new, whatever this was. I had thought I was out of _new_.

Did it matter if he deserved it?

There had been a time, back in the castle, when he had gripped the back of my neck hard and held my eyes as I rode his cock to the beat of the music swelling out of the wireless, my arms bound behind me from elbow to wrist with the same strips of leather that bound my cock, whispering all the things he’d do to me if he only had the time. I had heard them as threats, but they felt like promises now. Each addition made me tremble, an endless sea of things he would do with me and _to_ me, if only. 

I still didn’t know what half of them were, and I pushed that memory at him, playing back the rough drag of his voice, the smell of the leather and the oil and the feel of him so deep I couldn’t tell where he ended and I began. I wordlessly confessed my lust and dared him to warn me that I’d burn myself on the fire he’d started. 

He groaned into my mouth, his hips jerking against my thigh. I tightened my hand in his hair just a little, and felt the fear sparks die, replaced by something like astonished reverence, golden and warm as sunshine.

I pulled back, and he let me, breathing a little harder, the shell of his ear going hot against my wrist as I met his eyes again. “I don’t have to do anything, anymore,” I murmured, and he nodded.

“Nothing you don’t want to,” he agreed, and I managed a hint of a smile.

“Good, we agree that you can’t be guilty then,” I said, rolling onto my back, tugging him to lay against me, even as he arched an eyebrow.

“I don’t see how that follows.” He draped his arm over my chest, slowly, as if I would slap it away. I snorted and yanked him down.

“Stop pretending you haven’t been fucking me stupid for the last 6 months, please,” and he huffed and relaxed a little more, his leg sliding over mine, a wave of stinging pain from the welts on his thighs lighting up the bond.

I didn’t bother to hide the tinge of jealousy this time, not from him, and he lifted his head, surprise melting into a faint smirk.

“You really are a pain slut. And here I always thought you hated our little sessions. Who would have known their hero needed such things.” The words were the same as anything he had dripped like poison in my ears, but without the mockery it sounded more like a private joke between us. 

I gave him a rueful smile, shaking my head. “I certainly had no idea, though _you_ seemed to.” I huffed a laugh as I remembered something, and he made a questioning noise against my shoulder. “You warned me that you were very good at what you did. I should have believed you.”

He made a face against my chest, sleepy, smug amusement trying to mask the guilt bubbling up under it. 

“Ah, none of that, we agreed,” I said lightly, and tugged at his hair. 

“I still don’t see how acknowledging that you are _currently_ consenting absolves me from anything,” he grumbled against my shirt.

I tightened my hand in his hair until he made a soft noise and met my eyes. “Didn’t say absolution, did I? Just that your guilt isn’t welcome, not between us.”

“How can you lay there and say that, after all I’ve done?” He sounded absolutely baffled rather than angry, and I paused, trying to put some kind of words on what I was feeling. 

I gave up after a few seconds; I didn’t have the right words, so I just shrugged. “I don’t _want_ your guilt, that’s all. Be guilty about Ron, hell, be guilty about Hermione, I get the feeling she’d absolutely _adore_ takng it out of your hide. But you offered me your life, before. Don’t think I forgot that.”

He hummed, the black guilt igniting into a low burn of self loathing and a fuzzy kind of fatalistic acceptance, which he wallowed in, snuggling into it like he rubbed his cheek into my shoulder. “You’re planning on killing me yourself, then?”

I stared down at him, eyes wide. He didn’t even _feel_ joking, he felt relieved. Anger and annoyance flared at his stubborn determination to die. “ _No_ , you absolute prat, what the fuck?” I hauled his lips back to mine with the hand still tangled in his hair. He stiffened, but I held him still, kissing him like he had kissed me a hundred times, demanding, insistent, wishing I could talk to him at the same time.

Wait. Duh.

I kicked open the link between us, pushing the words into his head like my tongue into his mouth, his self loathing melting like sour salt under the heat of my conviction. < _Fuck_ your guilt. Your guilt isn’t going to change the past, and is only going to make the future harder. You made the choices you made, and all your guilt does is make you _feel better_. >

He winced, but I held him tight, my fingers hard in his hair, trying to kiss some kind of sense into him. < We live through this, you can work on atonement. I’m sure I can come up with something that’s wretched enough even for _you_. >

His thoughts came slowly, as if he was still processing. < You are forgetting which of us is the masochist, I think. >

< Am I, really? Five hundred and thirty four times? I’d rather sand off my tattoos than go through that again. Don’t tell me you couldn’t have come up with another way. But alright, _I’m_ the pain slut with destructive tendencies. > I came up for air, panting, wrapping the jibe with a bow of … whatever this new thing was between us. 

His eyes were shut tight, one hand sliding up to grip my wrist. I thought he was pushing me away, but he pressed up into my mouth, confusion and guilt swirling in him, boiling with lumos-bright bubbles of something that melted the black loathing like acid.

< I deserved every wretched moment of it, > he sent, and I rolled my eyes even as I grabbed his other hand and laced our fingers together, dragging his hand into my hair and leaving it there. He cupped my head, but his fingers were soft, hesitant. 

< Don’t rightly care if you deserved it, I really don’t. You offered me your life, but I don’t want that, either. What I do care about is winning this war, and we can’t do that if you’re courting death because you feel bad about what you’ve done to, I dunno, _win the war_. > I shook his head for emphasis.

He wrenched his lips away, breathing hard against my cheek, knocking my glasses askew. I could feel the muscle in his jaw clench against mine as he turned over what I had said in his head. The guilt was losing ground to the bright, acidic bubbles of hope. “Courting death?” he said, his voice rough. He cleared his throat. “That’s poetic. And ironic, coming from you.” A little flicker of his normal fire came back, a bit of fresh tinder catching on worn old coals.

“What would be the point of disagreeing with you? Deal then, we agree we’re both self-absorbed, self-destructive masochists, and we are shelving _anything_ having to do with guilt or vengeance until after we win.” 

His hand tightened in my hair for just a moment before he caught himself, and pulled far enough away that I could actually focus on him. His brow had folded into a mild version of his customary scowl, and I felt my mouth curling into a grin.

“I…” He stopped, blinking.

I raised an eyebrow, tipping my head like I couldn’t hear him. “Hm, what’s that? I can’t hear you over the welts on your arse.” My grin grew as blood flushed across his nose and down his neck.

“Fine,” he grunted, “Agreed. I will do my best not to allow my guilt-”

“-you mean, wallow in your guilt like a flobberworm in snotgrass,” I corrected.

He sighed, and rolled his eyes, “I will do my best not to wallow in my guilt like a flobberworm in snotgrass. And you will refrain from drowning me with your giant magical issuance, in return?”

I blinked, then sputtered a laugh when he flicked me the image of setting the bed on fire with the raw power of my lust. “I’ll do my best. No promises.”

“We’ll ...work on it, I guess. Harry, listen, I-”

The air suddenly rang, sharp and loud, and he snapped his head toward the door, hissing as pain rippled down his welts. 

“Brae’s back. We need to go.” He pushed himself up and swayed for a moment, and then put himself back together, breathing deeply. He glanced at me, and it was like watching him melt in reverse, building up layer upon layer of tension and arrogance, rubbing his fingers through his hair. He looked around for his robe, and saw instead a black silk tunic, high necked and ankle length, but sleeveless. I felt the little shiver of lust and memory go through him as he pulled it on, his fingers slipping on the tiny buttons. “Old snake is determined to bring up the past, I see.”

I pushed myself up off the bed, and knelt, starting on the buttons at the hem. I felt him freeze, and I looked up at him, as innocently as I could manage, blinking behind my glasses. “What?”

He ran his hand through my hair, and I pushed up into his touch. “You are extraordinary,” he said softly, and I laughed and went back to his buttons, carefully brushing my fingers against the faint swell of his cock, the silk clinging to him as I smoothed it up his thighs.

“Professor Snape, if I didn’t know better I’d say that was a genuine compliment.” I caught the little jolt the title sent through him, and my eyebrows climbed. “Oh, that’s filthy, _that’s_ the title that makes you hot?” I tisked as I continued to do up his buttons, the hair on his stomach prickling against my fingertips as I stood to finish, tipping his head back to do up the ones at his throat. I leaned close, as if to see what I was doing, and ground my hip into the heat of him as I slid my lips over his jaw, teasing and light. “There you go, Professor,” I murmured into his skin. “All proper.”

He grunted and grabbed the back of my neck and hauled me into a hard kiss, pressing his cock against me, rumbling noises into my mouth that never escaped. His other hand dipped just under my waistband to roll the palm of his hand over the head of my cock. He pulled away after a few dizzying seconds to look down into my face, and I blinked, distracted. 

“Buh?” I said brilliantly, and he smirked, pushing my hair off my forehead and settling my glasses back onto my nose firmly.

“There. Now we both look proper. Shall we? Our audience awaits.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'd think, after writing this story for 20 years, that a fluff (for me, anway) scene would be easy. You'd be wrong to think that. This was probably the hardest chapter I've written in the whole shebang. I can tell when something is hot, but this? This is agonizing. Not sure how you fluffy bunny authors do it.
> 
> :: nervous sweating ::
> 
> Thank you forever to my betas, Crow, H, and Sammi. Extra special thanks to Sammi, who is the MVP of finding sentences I've forgotten to finish.


	23. Chapter 23

He turned to the door and I caught his arm, my fingers denting the pale skin over his Dark Mark. He turned back, an eyebrow raised, the candles floating about the room making everything warm, and safe, and I needed… I needed...

“Before we go. I… Don’t know what to call you,” I managed, and his other eyebrow rose.

“You seemed to have no trouble with my name just a moment ago,” he pointed out, and I shook my head, trying to will the blood out of my cock and back to my brain. His faint smirk widened as his eyes dropped to my lips, swollen from his kiss.

I tugged him closer, and wrapped my arms around him, careful to keep above the worst of the welts. I laid my head on his chest, and he embraced me slowly, the silk already warming to the skin underneath it. I swallowed hard, and nudged one of his hands up until he caught on. His hand trembled just a hair as he wrapped it around the back of my neck, and I relaxed against him, sighing, my chest loosening like being unbound. 

He held me tight against him, his breath stirring my hair. 

< I have a different question, > he asked gently, his other hand stroking down my back. A tendril of that golden sunshine reverence wound around me, and I flushed. His amusement felt like a bite of chocolate, and I fought not to rub my face into him. 

Partially because it was undignified, and partially because I suspected we wouldn’t make it out of the bedroom for a while if we started up again. 

< What did you want me to call _you_ , before you stopped yourself? >

My eyes popped open as the answer rang between us, far too strong for me to pull back, propelled by my longing for him to take over, to not leave me alone with the person he had made me into.

< Good boy. Wanted you to call me your good boy. > Shame filled my chest for a heartbeat, but the groan that tore out of his throat made it shrink like a shadow banished by light.

He hauled my mouth to his again, kissing me softer this time, over and over until the shame dissolved. He slid both hands around to cup my face between his long, stained fingers, pulling away just far enough for our foreheads to touch, his voice rough and dark, “You _are_ my good boy. I don’t deserve you, I don’t deserve another moment of you, but here you are, offering me everything.” 

My eyes slid shut, and I sagged against him, even as my chest felt like it was going to burst. He caught me under the arms as my knees threatened to give way. I felt like the top of my head was going to float off as he kept talking, murmuring into the darkness between us. “Even when I didn’t dare tell you, couldn’t risk you hearing it, _remembering_ it, you were always such a good boy. Tried so very, very hard to do what was right.”

I whimpered and nodded, and guilt bubbled in him. I pushed it away, caustic irritation prickling through the thick, intoxicating fog filling my head. He took a hard breath and the guilt faded. He pulled back a little, tipped my chin up so I looked him in the face. The emotions in him were too complicated for me to untangle with my brain still drunk on hearing him say what I had been craving to hear for so long.

“And you still are, aren’t you? You’re willing to throw your lot in with mine, even after all I’ve done, for the greater good. You’d probably have walked right up to Voldemort and let him strike you down, if you thought it was the right thing to do.” I didn’t know anybody could sound both proud and annoyed at the same time, but I shouldn’t have been surprised that he managed it.

Words were hard, but I managed to scrape enough of my brain together to send a wobbly thought to him. < I’d mouth off, first. Maybe insult his nose. Or ask him if he was getting a leg over that mad Lestrange woman.>

“Oh Merlin, I bet you would have, too,” he laughed, and stroked my hair off my forehead, his thumb rubbing over my scar. “I’m glad we never had to find out what you would have said. And Bellatrix would have given her entire collection of eyeteeth to have him look at her that way, the daft bint.” His thumb moved down and brushed across my cheek. “I wish that Brae had taken a few more hours coming back, but if we don’t appear I’m almost positive someone will come looking for us.”

I hummed noncommittally, and he tisked, summoning the pitcher of water and the glass without letting go of me. I could feel the faint, tickly brush of his magic as he did, stronger than it had been before. I wondered idly if it had been the caning or what came after that had restored him.

“Can you manage actual words, hm? If we walk out there with you blissed out of your mind they are going to think I have more energy than I do.” He poured me water, and I took the glass when he offered it, watching him over the rim as I sipped at it, pushing the memory of his tongue lapping water off of my fingers at him. He cleared his throat, his lips twitching. “Let’s go back to what to call me, what are you debating between?”

I reluctantly swam back up from the soothing, warm mud puddle my brain had melted into. < I don’t think I could manage Mr Snape with a straight face, and I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty sure I’m going to end up hard as a rock next time somebody calls you Professor Snape. >

“Mhm, I suspect I will have the same problem. I notice those words were not out loud however.” He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, the pale skin stark against the black silk. 

I licked my lips, taking a deep breath. It was hard to make myself speak, as if I was going to break something precious. “I don’t want to call you Snape,” I said hoarsely, and took another sip of my water. “And if I call you Sir my head’s gonna get even more mixed up.” 

His head tipped to the side, just a little bit. “Are you asking me if you can call me by my given name?”

I nodded, feeling foolish, and he rolled his eyes. “Harry, as you quite correctly pointed out, we’ve been fucking for months. You may call me whatever you wish.” I nodded again, draining my glass.

His lips curled into a smirk as I gulped at my water. “Though, my friends have been known to call me Sev. Severus is such a mouthful.”

I spat water all over him as I choked on a laugh, and he thumped me on the back, water dripping from his nose. I was laughing too hard to see him clearly, but his scowl was visible even through my wet glasses. The fact that I could _feel_ his amusement made his sour look even more hysterical. 

“Oh my god. You told a joke. An honest to god joke. I’m gonna have to find a pensieve, bottle that memory; nobody will believe me otherwise. Oh, no wait, I can just SHOW THEM!” I gasped with laughter again.

“Droll. Quite,” he grumped, and dragged a finger up his wet robe, the water steaming off in little swirls. I held my arms out, offering him my wet chest, and he pressed his hand flat over my heart, a ripple of magic puffing my tee shirt dry and sending little warm licks of sensation through me. 

“Alright. Now we can go,” I said, and the door popped open before I could get to it, shattering the little bubble that had held us separate from the rest of the world. Music buzzed and thumped, some wailing punk song about the moon being a terrible master. 

I could hear Brae’s quorking voice, and the murmur of almost familiar voices. Remus’s delighted bark of joy came just before someone grunted and ordered “Down boy!”

I paused, hand on the doorframe, looking back.

Sev stood in the center of the room, looking out at the hallway and the spill of light and laughter, his hands clenching restlessly. The floating candles slowly put themselves out, like stars winking out at dawn. As the darkness crept back over him, he took a breath, looking down at his bare feet for a moment. 

“Harry… I’m still the same man that I was when I did all of things to you, to all of you. No, I’m not wallowing, don’t give me that look. I’m just trying to prepare you. More revelations are inevitable. My generals, I need to-”

“For a triple-agent multi-dimensional sex wizard, you’re kinda dumb sometimes,” I said, and I heard the click as his jaw snapped shut. 

Zil’s drunken laughter barged into the room in the silence between us. “Get ‘em, Little Dog!” he hollered, and I could hear Ron taking bets and Hermione’s giggling orders for everyone to Calm Down Right This Moment and I decided he didn’t get to hide in the shadows anymore. 

I squinted at the last lit floating candle, and balled up that laughter and the feeling of his voice against the top of my head and my annoyance that it clearly hadn’t occurred to him that I may have actually paid attention and threw it at the candle, willing it brighter. 

The mirror on the dresser rattled, and the candle burst into flame at both ends. It twisted and split like a hydra into a whole writhing ball of wax tapers, the candles on the bottom burning faster than the top, sending it spinning lazily through the air pattering wax the floor like fat rain. 

The conversation paused in the living room, and then Remus crowed “Ah _HA_ ” and everyone laughed again.

Confusion leaked from him even as he admired the candle ball, stepping around it and watching it bob to a stop safely away from anything flammable, the bed curtains sliding away with a displeased hiss of the rings. I leaned against the doorjamb, crossing my arms. “Or you really do think I’m particularly dim. You always said I was a moron.”

“Uh-”

“You didn’t wonder why I didn’t ask you the names of the generals? I thought you had realized you didn’t need to tell me.” I shook my head. 

“I-”

“You never offered me Sirius,” I said, and he stopped, turning to look at me, eyebrow cocked.

“On the contracts,” he said slowly, and I nodded. 

“I couldn't figure out why, but… well, I figured he was dead, had to be, why else wouldn’t you have used him as bait for those horrid things? Easy target. We’ve lost a lot of people, I just added him to the list of things I wanted to kill Voldemort for.”

He was staring at me, and I jerked my head at him, a smile tugging at my lips. He looked down the hall again, then came to stand next to me, resting his forehead against the wall next to the doorframe.

“And then you said he was Corvatica, and spooked like a Thestral when Zil said your generals were coming, and…” I turned my head a bit, glancing at his face. “Who else could it be?”

He shook his head slowly, and shifted to press his arm against mine, the jut of his elbow digging into my bicep pleasantly hard. “You continue to surprise me,” he murmured, and I bumped my head against his. 

“The feeling is mutual, you secretive bastard.”

“Hm. So, are you about to dazzle me with your deduction skills again by pulling my other general’s name out of the air?”

I flashed him a grin, and waggled my eyebrows. “Gotta be Jericho.” I laughed when he shut his eyes and nodded helplessly, flapping a hand at me to tell me to go on. 

Brae stuck his head into the hallway, surprisingly short again and missing almost all of the white bone on his beak. I waved a greeting and smiled, and flicked my fingers at him. :: Welcome back! Give us just a few more minutes, ok? ::

:: I will stall, but they are getting rowdy, Godfather. :: His beak gaped in a grin, and he bounced back toward the living room. I turned back to Sev, who was thumping his head softly against the wall.

“He’s the only other Corvatica you ever left me alone with. Hell, he’s the one you picked for my first time, which had to be a risk, now that I know what I know. _And_ his tattoo is different.”

I felt him try to hide a pulse of lust at the memory of that night, guilt pulling at him, and washed the guilt away with a few seconds of the memory of pressing into Jericho’s heat, his cock splitting me open, the taste of the oil and his fingers in my mouth, the wet heat of Jericho’s tongue wrapped around my fingertips.

The silk robe hid very little, and I slid a hand down to the growing bulge of his cock. “Ah, that worked pretty well. I’ve got lots of ammo for that particular deterrent, and I have no problem broadcasting those memories to everyone in the cabin. Well, ok, I’ll leave Brae out, but everyone else can get popcorn and sit down to a nice showing of exactly how much I was enjoying what you were doing to me, even if I hated you, me, and the whole world at the time.”

“So the fact that your godfather and I-”

“Have been banging like a set of loose shutters for years?”

“Where did you learn these phrases? What a terrible idiom. Yes, that, you insolent brat.” 

Some of his normal tone was coming back, and I gave his cock a final squeeze before pushing away from the door jamb and taking half a step out the door. 

He caught my arm this time, hauling me back to him and gripping my jaw tight. He showed his teeth, eyes hot. “Remember that weapons cut both ways,” he said, his voice pouring over me like melted wax. “You’d splay those memories out for Sirius to see? You gasping and panting for my touch, your skin marked by my teeth, arching desperately for my cock?” He stroked a memory over me, the curve of my back in the firelight, my voice breaking as I begged for the rake of his nails, the noise I made the first time I came with his fingers inside me. I jerked like he had shocked me, moaning as my half-hard prick took sudden desperate interest in the conversation.

I deluged him with a dozen blurry half-remembered dreams I had about Sirius, before I had anything more than a rough idea of what blokes even did in bed. He teased a particular one up, and growled as dream Sirius, filthy and wild eyed, slammed me face first against the wall of the Shrieking Shack and licked a messy stripe up my cheek, his hands clamped tight around my wrists, almost smothering me with the mass of his body, wild and totally in control.

I had come in my sleep from that one, confused and ashamed in the morning, and hadn’t been able to look ‘Snuffles’ in the face for hours.

His eyes flashed, and he leaned in conspiratorially. “You just won me a bet. Shall we go collect his forfeit? For the record, he thinks of you as family… in the same way he thinks of Lupin as family.” 

Just then, I heard Remus yelp and whine. Sev touched his fingertip to the line of my collar, and I suddenly could feel them all again, elation and lust and drunken triumph. Brae hadn’t been kidding; it already felt like an orgy in here. 

As if he had heard me, Brae came back down the hall, dragging a heavy backpack. He grinned at me, and flicked his fingers. :: I am going to take a nap while all you earthworms flop about pseudo-spawning:: he signed, and then snapped his beak shut when Sev sighed and leaned over my shoulder.

“You’ve corrupted your godson with your terrible metaphors, haven’t you? Hopefully it won’t spread to the others. Hello Brae, welcome back. I see you had a moment with your clutch, are you feeling better?” 

Brae nodded vigorously. :: Yes! Everyone is very proud of their new status, though Vaht is sad he had to give up his spot in the Nightwatch. Fah was very cross with you, and says that you have scared us all to death. But she is First, always pushy. :: 

I saw them both shrug as if what Brae had signed made any kind of sense, and shook my head. “We’re going to talk about all of this stuff at some point, right?”

A loud smack rang out from the living room, and Brae picked his backpack up and retreated to our room, shutting the door behind him firmly.

“Inevitably, I suppose,” Sev said, and his fingers slid over my shoulder and down to cup my elbow. “I suspect that it may have to wait a few hours. It’s been… quite a long time since the wolf had his dogboy to play with.” 

“Think they'll be distracted?” I said, and he smirked and motioned for me to go first. 

Zil caught sight of us and stuck a finger to his lips in a drunken hush motion as we walked in. Little giggles leaked out around his attempt to keep silent himself, and he waved us in with a hiccuping laugh. The music had slowed into something middle-eastern, drums and long rising waves of notes. Something about it made me shiver, made my heart beat kick up a few beats. Sev hummed, his fingers pressing for just a moment, drumming along.

On the couch, Hermione and Ron were tangled innocently enough until you saw the flush on Ron’s cheeks, and the way his fingers were gently tracing up and down her arms where she leaned on him. 

I blinked and stumbled to a stop as my eyes found Sirius.

Somehow, I had expected Sirius as I had last seen him, half-feral and underfed, barely able to keep the past and present straight in his head.

The man who had Remus pinned down on the rug was not that Sirius.

 _This_ Sirius was wrapped in a leather jacket and dark, skintight trousers, his dark hair bound back with a shining gold cord. His hands, where they wrapped around Remus’s wrists, gleamed with leather, the knuckles scuffed. 

And the Sirius I knew never wore tall leather boots, buckled with what looked like a hundred straps and ties. Until that moment, I hadn’t realized that I liked boots at all, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. He had filled out, his shoulders under the jacket broad, the curve of his ass in the tight trousers distracting.

I could see his hips grind down, and Remus whimpered again, his eyes shut tight as Sirius sucked a hickey under his ear. Several more already dotted his throat.

“Holy shit,” I murmured, and Sev’s arms slid around me from behind. I leaned back on him, sweat breaking out on my forehead as my heartbeat spiked. I could feel his smirk as I shivered. 

“Amazing what a little care and feeding can do for a stray dog,” he said, just loud enough that I could tell he meant to be heard. 

Sirius’s head jerked up, but he didn’t stop the slow grind of his hips. He took in both of us with a sweep of his eyes, surprise flickering at our posture, before his familiar grin broke through the thick wash of lust around him.

He pressed a kiss to Remus’s chin, and then rolled to his feet and wiped the back of his hand across his damp lips.

And then he dropped to his knees and touched his fist to his nose, looking at Sev with an intensity that made my stomach tremble. I felt something brush across me, a faint touch of warmth like fur and the smell of leather and oranges, the rumble of an engine between your thighs. His magic, I realized belatedly. 

I felt Sev’s magic respond, wood smoke and the acrid bite of burning paper and the feeling of a hand in your hair, holding you tight. The two magics slid against each other, a brief, intense exchange of … something that I couldn’t quite catch. It felt like a kiss, and I couldn’t stop the envious little flicker before they both sensed it. Sirius’s eyes dropped to me, the intensity in them almost a physical force. I swallowed, hard, and I watched his eyes follow the movement before sliding leisurely back up to lock on mine as if he had never seen me before. 

His magic brushed up against me again, and I clumsily _reached_ for him, pressing against that tantalizing swirl that felt like _Sirius_. I saw his pupils blow wide, his head twitching like a dog with a fly as I overshot, crashing into him instead of the delicate kiss he had shared with Sev. 

His hips canted like I had actually touched him, even though we were still across the room. His magic surged against me, and for a long second I felt like he had thrown me into the air, my stomach dropping and my hair lifting off my scalp. I managed a stuttering moan before Sev wrapped his woodsmoke around me and grounded me again. I held on to his arm, panting a little bit.

Sirius shifted his knees apart, resting his gloved hands on his thighs and lifted his chin to smirk at us, a bead of sweat escaping his hairline to run down his stubbled jaw. With his head tipped up, I could see the edge of the black collar, sunk under his skin. I wondered what he looked like naked and Sev sent me a single image of Sirius bound in golden ropes, straining to keep his balance on his toes, his body a roadmap of tattoos and bite marks. My lungs seized for a heartbeat as lust crashed over me.

“Up, Culus, you’re going to give him an embolism. Attend your wolf, he’s had a rough few days. And where’s your shadow? I know you brought him with you.” The words were striped with his normal acidity, but I could feel both relief and a curl of dread at seeing Sirius.

“Culus?! He named you _culus_ ?” Hermione squeaked, and buried her face in Ron’s shirt, giggling. “ _What a bastard!”_

Sirius rolled forwards onto his hands and sprung lightly to his feet, entirely too nimble for someone with that much leather on.

With that much _muscle_ on, for that matter. 

Sev slid a thumb over my chin. “Let me get that for you,” he murmured, and I looked up at him, confused.

He leaned down and bit the shell of my ear softly and whispered “You’re drooling.”

“Rude,” I said, and he raised an eyebrow at me, and pointedly looked back at Sirius, who was slowly unbuckling the line of straps that held his jacket closed as he prowled back over to Remus, his gloved hands having no trouble with the clasps. He was wearing a thin white tank top under the jacket, his tattoos ghostly shadows trapped between his skin and the cotton, slowly appearing as each buckle came undone. I rubbed my fingertips across my chin, just in case, and shook my head as Sev laughed into my hair, both of us watching Sirius peel his jacket open and drop it to the floor, forgotten.

Jericho strolled out of the kitchen carrying two bottles of wine, dressed much the same as Sirius, though he was barefoot, and his leather jacket was longer, hanging to mid thigh. His dark curls were tousled, a pair of smoked goggles pushed up on his forehead. He shot us a smile and relinquished the wine into Zil’s waiting hands, and then sauntered over and folded onto his knees in front of Snape, as boneless and graceful as he had been in the castle.

His salute was perfect, and still insolent, and I saw Sirius roll his eyes. Jericho rested his hands on his thighs and sent me a grin. 

Somewhere in the cabin, a jungle bird called.

“Permission to speak freely, Sir?” Jericho said, the amusement in his voice tugging at my lips even though his face was perfectly composed.

“Granted, though I suspect I will regret it."

"Remember when you asked me to warn you if you appeared visibly fond of Modah?" 

Severus sighed, and dropped his forehead to my shoulder like it weighed a stone, quickly stifling a pulse of embarrassment. I glanced at him, a warm flush rolling through me. After a moment he lifted his head, and I could feel his glare. Jericho took it in stride, his face splitting into his impish, delighted grin, and shook his head.

“Brat. Get up here,” he growled, and Jericho dropped into a liquid crawl for the few paces it took him to get to our feet. Ron whistled from the couch, and Jericho paused his slink to wink over his shoulder at him, and pursed his lips in a kiss for Hermione, who was looking at him like you might a menu at a restaurant.

He folded down into an impossibly low kneel, knees spread, belly down, forehead pressed to the rug an inch from Severus’ hem, his curls just brushing the black silk. He took a single, shivering breath, and whispered “Please, Sir, please?” before going still as a pool of water.

Sev tensed and glanced at me, and I rolled my eyes when I picked up his worry that I’d be jealous. I pulled at his arm, and slid out of the way, not going too far. “Attend your boy,” I said, patting his arm. “We’ve all had a rough few days. Plus, I can see much better from the couch, and you know what a dedicated student I am.” I sat on the arm of the sofa, where I could see both him and Jericho, and still watch Sirius peel himself out of several layers of leather.

He laughed, low in his throat, and murmured. “Surprised again. Will I never learn?” He turned back to Jericho, who hadn’t moved, hadn’t even seemed to breathe. 

Sev regarded him for a long moment, his eyes half lidded, his woodsmoke magic reaching out and caressing Jericho, before dropping his hand to his side and clicking his fingers. Jericho shot up like he was spring loaded, wrapping his arms around Sev’s shoulders, burying his face against his neck, holding tight. His legs curled around Sev’s hips, and I felt him flinch as Jericho touched the welts, but he didn’t pull away, just wrapped his arms around him and held him up.

Suddenly I could _feel_ Jericho, through the bond; his magic sparking with the bright copper penny taste of fresh blood in your mouth, the sound of a hand striking flesh, the way chocolate melts on your tongue. His tears wet Sev’s neck, sliding down his chest, his stomach trembling, relief and joy and the sour bite of stale fear. 

“Shhhh, Axat, shhhhh, it’s alright, I’m right here,” Sev murmured, and slid his hand up to grip the back of Jericho’s neck. Jericho just shuddered, and I caught a memory, pushed between them. 

// Jericho, knocking on his office door, getting no answer. Slowly pushing the door open after a long, indecisive moment, only to see Snape collapsed over his desk, a spilt bottle of ink dripping slowly onto the floor like blood.

For a horrified moment, he had thought Snape dead, and flung his magic out with a cry, almost sobbing with relief when he found his Master breathing, if catatonic. He frantically called for help through the bond, too distressed to shield, and Coraxis suddenly folded into existence in the room, ten, twenty, more and more, old ones with hatchlings, and young ones still dressed in flight leathers, soaking wet ones from the kitchen, and the hulking, shambling mids, who arrived out of breath from running. 

Every Coraxis in the castle tried to squeeze into the room, and the air thrummed with hundreds of eyes watching just above the fold because there was no more room to stand. None of them made a sound, just watched with wide, worried eyes. 

By the time Doc and Culus had gotten through the press of distressed Coraxis, Jericho had already gotten him laid out on the bed, and was cleaning the ink carefully away by hand, because he couldn’t tell what was wrong with Severus, and he didn’t dare to use magic, not even Sensus. //

Jericho pulled his head up, face wet and blotchy, and looked lost, and young, and afraid.

“And then you were just… not in there. It was like your body had just been left behind. I couldn’t even find you through the bond, at first.” His legs tightened, and Sev couldn’t stop the hiss as his welts protested. Jericho tipped his head like a dog hearing a whistle, and his eyes widened, bubbles of his normal sunny disposition breaking through the storm. 

“Careful, please, I have welts,” Severus murmured down at him, and his eyes widened comically.

“Wait, _who…_ what? Can I see? Later I mean.” He looked over Severus’ shoulder and down his back, as if he could see through the black silk.

Severus nodded, and Jericho slid down to stand on his own. Sev’s hand still held him tight, pulling him in to rest his head against his chest, hugging him tightly. Jericho sighed happily, his eyes closing, perfectly content. Sev met my eyes over his head as he petted over the black curls, emotions I couldn’t sort out rolling between them.

I found to my surprise that I _was_ indeed jealous, but not of Severus comforting him, or their obvious affection, but of Jericho’s effortless submission. I wondered if it had always been that easy for him.

Jericho must have caught it, because he opened his eyes and turned to look at me. He looked back at Severus and grinned, before pressing a kiss to his sternum and pulling away. Severus let him go with a final stroke of his hand down his cheek.

I shifted on the arm of the couch nervously as Jericho approached me, but he just plopped himself onto the couch with a satisfied sigh, and patted the cushion next to him, looking up at me with wide, begging eyes. He even fluttered his lashes, and I couldn’t help but laugh. I shifted from the arm to sitting next to him, and he threw an arm around my shoulders, hugging me to his side.

“Thank you for taking care of him,” he said softly, and I winced.

“You know this is my fault, right?” I said, and he laughed again, shaking his head.

“No more your fault than mine, Modah. This world of ours is overly complicated, trying to take blame for anything in particular is pointless.”

The copper-penny taste of him was almost overwhelming this close, and he smelled of leather and spices and tears. I leaned into him, memories rising of the taste of his skin, the wet heat of his mouth. Arousal chewed through the last of the jealousy, and he sent back a corresponding swirl of anticipation and desire. 

“He goes by Harry, now,” Severus said from behind us, and we both looked up; he had moved to stand behind the couch, his hands resting on the battered cushions. Jericho’s eyebrows shot to his hairline, and he looked at me, offended.

“You didn’t invite me to your Naming? I am crushed!” he whinged, putting his hand to his chest. “And Bili and Taru…?” He turned to look at them, watching us from their couch.

“Hermione and Ron, if you please,” she said, her lips tweaking up, “And no, you didn’t get an invite to ours, either, as we didn’t have one.”

Jericho actually gasped, and looked up at Severus. “What? That’s… that’s not fair! What the _hell_ , sir?”

Severus looked distinctly uncomfortable. “I… you know their training was… atypical, I didn’t think-”

“Bollocks,” Jericho interrupted, and all three of us gaped at him. I expected Severus to slap him, or scowl, or at least say something biting, but instead he nodded and looked rather chagrined. 

Jericho narrowed his eyes for a moment, and shook his finger at Severus. “You owe them that.”

Severus glanced at me, and then looked away. “I owe them a lot more than that.” Guilt swelled, and I frowned at him, reaching up to tap his hand. “Hm? Oh.” The guilt faded, and he offered me a faint smile. When I looked away, Jericho was watching me, his head tilted, curiosity swirling in his eyes. 

Zil whistled up the ottoman for Severus to sit on, and he carefully settled on it and crossed his arms on the back of the couch. Jericho sighed happily and leaned against the forearm near him, and waggled an eyebrow at me.

I mirrored his pose, and Severus made a small contented noise.

“This is weird,” I said softly. “Isn’t it? Shouldn’t this be all… awkward?”

Jericho shrugged. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve been hearing about that monster for years, and I’m delighted to finally see it in action. Culus waxes poetic about it.”

For a heartbeat, I was righteously offended that he was referring to Remus as a monster, until I caught the lustful gleam in his eye as he stared at one particular part of Remus, who was still splayed out on the rug like a starfish, his eyes half open, watching Sirius’s every move. 

“... Oh.” I was blushing, I could feel it, and I felt like an idiot. Or at least, hopelessly naive. 

“See? There, now you feel awkward, is that any better?” Severus said wryly, and I grunted and folded my legs up. Jericho laughed, but it was the opposite of mocking laughter, and I felt the awkwardness dissolve under it.

Severus dragged his fingertips up the back of my neck, tapping lightly against the skin under my jaw in time with the slow beat of the music. I shivered again. “Hush, just watch for a little while,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “I’m pretty sure it’d be difficult to separate them, at this point.”

Jericho’s lips flicked into a wicked grin, which he immediately wiped away, but Severus had caught it. 

“What, brat?”

Jericho giggled and sent just us an image of using a hose on dogs mating in the yard.

Severus’ face didn’t change, but I could feel his amusement. I couldn’t stop the snort of laughter in time, but nobody was paying attention to us, at the moment. 

And I didn’t blame them.

Sirius crouched by Remus’s head. I tried not to stare at Sirius’s thighs and the bulge pressing against the lacing of his trousers and failed miserably. He had only taken off his jacket, his long boots and gloves still firmly in place. Remus’s nose was twitching, but he hadn’t moved, sprawled boneless.

Or nearly so. The ridge of his cock was visible from here, straining against the leg of his trousers. 

“Look at you, all laid out for me,” Sirius said, and I stiffened against the couch; his voice was a gruff, broken rumble, the edges distorted by something resonant and odd, like it was leaking a slick of oil.

Jericho shot me a look, and Sev tapped his fingers against my lips.

< I warned you that there’d be more revelations tonight, > he sent, and traced the edge of his thumbnail down my throat. < The wounds of war kill some and leave others to walk with their scars. >

Sirius leaned forward and slid the back of his hand over Remus’s cheek. I could see his sharp inhale, the way he turned his head into the touch. Sirius smiled fondly and clamped his gloved hand over Remus’s mouth and nose, cutting off his air.

Remus jerked, eyes going wide, his arms coming up to grab Sirius’s forearm, but he wasn’t pulling him away, just holding tight. Sirius brushed his scruff of hair off his head, tracing the scars that cut across Remus’s face, leaning closer, staring hard into his eyes. I found myself holding my breath without meaning to, and Severus flicked my ear until I puffed out stale air.

I saw the moment Remus’s trembling became something more, and Sirius didn’t move, just kept up that intense, directed stare, searching his eyes like the secrets of the universe were hidden somewhere behind them. Remus pulled at his arm, and then harder when it didn’t move. The edge of wild still clung to Sirius, for all that he was well fed, and I wasn’t sure what exactly was going on at the moment. I had expected… I don’t know what. Not this slow, still suffocation.

I gulped, looking back at Severus, who was watching Remus with almost as much focus. He absently stroked his finger across my collar. Remus kicked, and Sirius’s gloved hand slid into his hair, holding him tight.

A second dragged into two, and three. Sirius suddenly pulled away, and Remus sucked in a huge gulp of air, coughing. Sirius carefully helped him sit up, petting his hair, his face gone soft and wondering.

“It worked,” he rasped, cupping Remus’s face between his hands. “Moony, it _worked!_ The wolf can’t break the Binding.” He pressed a kiss to Remus’s red, open mouth like he was made of spun sugar.

“That’s what that was?” Remus panted, clutching at the cotton of Sirius’s tank top. “You could have warned me, Pads. Thought for a moment…”

Sirius looked up, his eyes feral. “What, that I was going to kill you? Hate to break it to you, love, but even with the wolf I wouldn’t have much trouble controlling you anymore.”

He clicked his fingers, and black tendrils rose from the rug behind Remus and shot forward, twining around his arms and yanking them above his head, sliding down his torso. Remus’s clothing parted under their touch as if eaten by acid. Remus yelped as they split apart his trousers and pants, leaving him suddenly naked in an explosion of cloth rags. 

Freed, Remus’s cock arched over his belly before nodding under its own weight, his thighs striped with long white scars. Sirius clucked his tongue and drew a finger up a scar, higher and higher until he got to Remus’s cock, monstrous in its nest of tawny hair. He wrapped his gloved hand around it, or tried to; even Sirius’s long fingers didn’t come anywhere close to encircling it.

Remus moaned at the touch, long and filthy, his head tipping back against the floor, his eyes shut tight.

The tentacles wandered over his skin, plucking and exploring, as Sirius slowly worked his fist over Remus’s cock, sliding the skin up, drinking in the little whines and whimpers he was pulling from Remus’s lips. 

“I dreamed of you, you know,” Sirius said, his ruined voice making every word into a gravelly prayer. “All the time. I wanted to sneak away, find you out there, bring you home, make you safe.” He twisted his wrist, and Remus keened as he rubbed the fingertips of his other hand over the shiny cockhead peeping from the bunched skin.

“Sirius,” Remus moaned, thrashing his head. “Oh _Merlin_ , please!”

Sirius gave him a grin, his face losing years. “Nope, still just me, Moony.” He leaned forward on one hand and dragged his nose down the length of Remus’s cock, his eyes sliding shut, inhaling the smell of him. He lapped over the crinkled skin of his balls, making Remus whimper and arch off the ground, only to be stopped by the clench of Sirius’s fist.

Remus yelped and dropped back to the floor, panting. 

“Cht! Stay,” Sirius snapped, and lapped over the head, dragging the flat of his tongue slowly across it, over and over, as Remus’s whining rose in pitch. His face was red, his scarred chest heaving as the black shadows twined around his nipples like string, pulling tight as Sirius watched him, gazing up his body adoringly, still licking over the tip of his cock. He yelped again as Sirius pulled back with a final, long slurp, and slid his cock hard against his Remus’s, trapping it between them as he settled himself in the cradle of Remus’s thighs. He planted his gloved hands on either side of Remus’s ribs, holding himself up, out of reach, his arms thick with tensed muscle. 

His tattoos shifted like black flames, primitive feathers and esoteric runes and things I didn’t have words for. The music had slowed down, the air gone thick with the smell of pine forest and dry, sweet grass, of books and stolen kisses under the quidditch stands.

“Find your words for me. I’ve been wanking for the last five years to the memory of your voice, begging me to touch you, begging me to _use you,_ so afraid I’d free the wolf that you could scarcely breathe.” Sirius licked a slow stripe up Remus’s chest, lapping around his bound nipples but not touching them. “He’s just as bound as you are, now. I have both of you under me. And there’s not much either of you can do about it.” He grinned, his teeth white slash against the bronze of his skin. “No more crying wolf, Remus. _Beg_ for me.”

He bit Remus hard, over his heart, and then snapped his teeth just over the swollen nub before sucking into his mouth hard, his cheeks going hollow. 

“Fuck, _fucking FUCK Siri, please_ God in heaven just fuck me, ride me, _beat me,_ anything _please_ , anything, anything you _want-”_ his voice broke, and Sirius dropped his weight on him with a groan, tangling his hands in the shaggy hair and yanking his head back, ravaging his mouth in a rough kiss. 

“Oh, so much better than I remembered,” he growled when he lifted his head, long seconds later, his face reddened by Remus’s stubble. “Hm, you need grooming, I think. I could stop now, bathe you and shave you clean, tuck you into bed and sleep curled up at your feet. How does that sound? All sweet and soft?” He rolled a nipple between his fingers, the leather gleaming. 

“Hnnn nooo don’t, fuck me, _please,”_ Remus wailed, and Sirius laughed, pushing up on his arms again, so only his hips pressed against Remus.

He tipped his head, shifting to hold his weight on one arm while he put his hand to his ear. “What was that, ‘no, don’t fuck me, please?’ As you wish, though I had been looking forward to it, but-” He pushed up, as if he was going to stand up.

“NO,” cried Remus, and my teeth rattled as white spikes shot through the shadows, piercing them like a thousand shards of glass, freeing his hands. He grabbed Sirius and yanked him back down, wrapping his legs around him for good measure, licking at his neck. His lips peeled back from his teeth in a snarl before he visibly flinched his head back, his teeth snapping shut on the cotton of his white shirt.

Sirius laughed, dark and hot, and clicked his fingers again. More shadows grew out of the rug and wrapped around Remus’s ankles, twined up his calves, spiraled up the meat of his thighs, crept under his body and back up around his ribs, waving gently in the air like jellyfish, waiting to be needed. Sirius nuzzled at Remus’ collar and held him tight as the shadows tightened, the flesh of his thighs bulging over the black lines as they pulled, winching Remus’s legs open even as he shook and tensed, thrashing.

“Shhhh, that’s it, baby, that’s what I want, fight me with everything you’ve got. If your knees touch the rug I’ll walk away, go wank myself sore and leave you here, open and beautiful and utterly caught.” Sirius’s voice was barely above a murmur, but I could hear it perfectly, the strange slickness of it catching on my ears, buzzed along my jaw.

“Oh,” Jericho said from beside me, his voice soft and impressed, and I glanced at him, my face so hot my skin felt swollen.

“Indeed,” Sev murmured, and ran the edge of his nail across my shoulder. I pressed back into it, and he slid his hand down the back of the couch and dug his nails into my back. I moaned, and he hummed approvingly.

Remus was wet with sweat, the spikes of white coming less and less, muscles trembling, his face screwed up as he clung as hard as he could to Sirius even as it became clear there was no way for him to win this fight.

Something popped, like the air pressure had just changed. Remus’s eyes rolled back, and he went limp in Sirius’s arms, his face wet with tears and sweat. The shadows froze, holding Remus’s knees a handspan from the rug. Sirius held him tight as he shook and sobbed. “That’s right, you can’t break free, you can fight all you want but you can’t get out. I’m _stronger_ than you, Remus. I’m _stronger than the wolf_.”

He slid his hand up, pushed two gloved fingers into Remus’s mouth. “Get em wet, that’s all you’re getting,” he ordered, and Remus sucked them deliriously, lapping at them, spit wetting his chin, dripping down the leather. Sirius fucked his mouth with his fingers, pushing deep, but Remus only moaned and tried to open his mouth wider. “As if I was going to pass up a chance to fuck you,” he said warmly, and Remus cried out around his fingers. He hooked them, making him gag briefly, dragging slick spit up from Remus’s throat. 

“That’s a good boy, look how sloppy you got me.” He dragged his fingers from Remus’s mouth and shifted, dropping his hand between them. I felt a familiar hint of magic, and Severus huffed a laugh behind me. 

“Cheater used lubricus.”

Jericho smacked his arm without looking away. “Hush, you, this is art.”

Remus arched, his hands clawing at Sirius’s back as he worked him open. Sirius twisted his arm, and I heard the shirt rip as Remus arched backwards.

“Whoops, forgot your claws,” Sirius said with a wincing grin. “Hands behind your back, love.” Remus whimpered, shaking his head, not wanting to lose his last hold. “Do it. I won’t let you fall.” He twisted his arm again, and Remus let go, falling back only a half inch as the shadows billowed up, quickly binding Remus’s elbows together, down to his wrists. I could see the strain on his shoulders, his chest pushed up. His cock had wet both of their stomachs, long strings of precome stretching between as Sirius sat back on his heels to open his fly.

“Look at you, almost defenceless. Beautiful, beautiful boy.”

“Almost?” Remus croaked, panting, “I can’t see how I could be any more at your mercy.”

I shook my head, and saw the other Corvatica do the same. Zil laughed, and I startled; he’d been so quiet I had forgotten he was there.

Sirius slipped the black leather lacing from his fly, his cock pushing free insistently. He pulled on it a few times, sighing in relief.

Remus watched, his mouth almost watering. He swallowed, hard, and managed a breathy “Oh,” as Sirius quickly and neatly bound his cock, pulling down his balls and wrapping the lace around them.

Sirius hummed in pleasure as he shifted the shadows, tipping Remus’s hips where he wanted them, adding a bit of padding under his own knees. He dragged the head of his cock down the bumps and ridges of the leather binding Remus tight. Every time he turned Remus or moved a limb where he wanted it, Remus sagged into the bindings more, until he was limp, panting but utterly relaxed.

“Remus, love, look at me,” he said, his voice soft, and it took Remus a few seconds to get his eyes all the way open, and focused. “That’s my good boy. You’re doing so well. I’m going to fuck you now, is that what you want?”

He nodded, slowly.

“That’s good. That’s exactly what I was hoping you’d say. And after I’ve come in you, you’re going to let me fuck Harry on that glorious monster cock, aren’t you?”

Remus moaned at the same time I did, and Sirius looked up at me, his eyes glittering as Remus nodded again.

He looked back down into Remus’s face, cupping his dry glove around his neck. “And even if you had said no, I could have done it _anyway._ Because I’m _stronger than you,_ Remus.” He pushed in just far enough to make Remus yell, and then paused, trembling with the effort, waiting for Remus’s eyes to flutter open and look up at him, drunk on lust and Sirius’s power, his pupils blown, submission in every line of his body.

Sirius tightened his hold on his throat, “And you _can’t hurt me.”_

He slammed his hips forward, burying himself in a brutal thrust. Remus cried out, his cock jerking, pearly drops running down the black leather, dribbling but unable to come. 

“Please,” he whimpered, “please, _please_ fuck me, please, please, Sirius-” 

“I am fucking you, love. Can’t you feel it?” He pulled out again and snapped his hips forward, rutting into him. Remus whined every time Sirius’s hips crashed against his, the noises sounding like they were being punched out of him.

“So god damn beautiful, you feel so good, I dreamed about you every night,” Sirius grunted, tugging on the shadows still binding Remus’s nipples. They had gone almost purple, and he wailed and shook as Sirius pulled them away from his body, his hips slamming faster and faster, “Fuck, Moony, I’m gonna come, and I’m gonna pull these off at the same time, and you are _not allowed to come,_ do you hear me?”

Remus sobbed and nodded, and Sirius flicked the shadows away. 

For a heartbeat nothing happened, and then Remus shrieked as blood rushed back into the aching nubs, and he _writhed,_ trying to get away from his own skin, and Sirius threw his head back, his hair coming unbound in a cascade of black as he came silently, shaking like he was about to fly apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sammi, Witchfire (Crow), H, all my henfen on the Pacify server, this one is for you. And the next one. <3


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to the Henfen, and H, (who will be a henfen as soon as I can pester her into it.)

Sirius collapsed forward, catching himself on his fists, keeping most of his weight off of Remus. His head fell onto the web of scars over his heart, the dark hair sticking to sweat damp skin, panting for long minutes. The barest edge of a sob escaped him as he pulled his head up to kiss Remus, still working his hips gently. Remus kept breaking away from the slow, sweet kisses to pant and whine, grinding as best he could against Sirius’ body.

I took a shaky breath and tore my eyes away from them. Severus was watching me. My face was already hot, but the look in his eyes made my mouth go dry. Jericho was leaning on an elbow, his eyebrow cocked, his smirk bubbling over into a wide grin, like I had just won a quidditch game.

Ron and Hermione looked at me, too, and then shared a glance. I blinked. “What?” I managed after a moment, and Severus leaned forward, his breath hot against my ear.

“They are merely surprised you volunteered to be the soup course,” he murmured, and my heartbeat thudded. I looked at Sirius, who had recovered enough to get his knees back under him. He hadn’t pulled out, just shifted so that Remus’ ass rested on his thighs, the shadows still holding him tight. Sirius was gathering his hair back together calmly, as if he didn’t have a lap full of writhing, begging lover, as if he hadn’t come hard in the last few minutes. I had expected him to… fall asleep, I guess. Need a break?

“But… I thought…” I gulped, glancing back at Severus, and he stroked a finger against my collar, little sparks of sensation dancing through me.

“You don’t have to do anything, remember? No one here will think less of you, either way.” I chewed my lip for a moment, watching Sirius’ black gloves tame his mane of dark curls and bind it with cord that he pulled out of the air. Thin black tendrils ran from his ribcage, connecting him to Remus in a hundred places, stroking down his chest to his cock in sequence, as if the sound itself was playing with Remus’ body. He smiled at me, desire and affection and joy stuttering off of him in uneven waves, lapping against me like a friendly lick.

“Do you want him?” Severus rumbled into my ear, “No shame in it, look at him, he spends hours in front of a mirror to look that good.”

Sirius flipped him off; evidently he could hear Severus’ voice just as well as we could hear his. Did that mean everyone…? I shot a look at Ron and Hermione, but they were entertaining each other, heads tucked together, whispering and sharing kisses.

A ghost of a laugh behind me, and his fingers slid into my hair, moving gently over my scalp. “You can have him, you know. You can let me stretch that beautiful hole of yours, let me take you apart and show him how you’re put together. And you’ve been thinking about how it would feel to sink down on that obscenely proportioned cock since you saw it, haven’t you? You can have all of it, or none of it, or anything in between.”

I squirmed, pressing my thighs together, achingly hard already. I met Sirius’ eyes squarely as he hissed and shivered, dropping his hand to tease at Remus’ bound cock, red under the web of black laces. Remus seemed beyond words, at the moment, the shadow playing with his lip, sliding in and out, just out of reach of Remus’ teeth. 

“Harry,” Sev said, his voice softer, the growl gone. He tipped my head so that I looked at him, and I could read the desire, but also something, a shadow of almost guilt, and I frowned at him. “Hush,” he said, though I hadn’t said anything. “Listen. What do you hear?” The music faded, and for a long moment all I could hear was the thunder of my own heartbeat and the thud of my thoughts chasing themselves around in circles in my head.

His fingers pulled my glasses off, stroked across my eyes, encouraging me to close them. “Shhh, I’m right here. Breathe. Good. Nothing you don’t want, evermore. No shame, not among us.”

I shuddered, leaning into his palm. It was so nice to let him take the weight of my head. “What do you hear?” he asked again, and it felt important, somehow. My breath stilled, and after a moment I could hear the faint sound of waves on the beach and the nightsong of a mockingbird. 

My collar _shivered_ under my skin, a sensation so unexpected I jerked against the couch, my hand flying to my throat only to have him catch my wrist and turn it in his hand, licking over the pulse thudding in my wrist.

He rumbled, somewhere in his chest, and stroked his thumb over my cheek. “That’s it, good. Mockingbird is a lovely choice. If ever you need to stop, if you change your mind, or need to slow down, all you have to do is say Mockingbird, and I will stop. If you cannot manage words, thinking it hard will suffice.”

I blinked my eyes open, giving him an incredulous look. He didn’t look away, but I felt the guilt howling somewhere deep inside him. He rubbed his thumb over my cheek again, his face blurry and apologetic. “I cannot change the past, but I promise you, I and anyone bearing my mark will be unable to ignore you invoking your word, by thought or voice.” He settled my glasses back on my face carefully.

Jericho slid his palm down my knee, and the copper penny feel of him rolled over my skin. I saw him glance at Severus. “May I give him an example?” 

Sev hummed his assent, and Jericho took my hand, covering it with his other palm, and slid his head away from where it had been resting against Severus’ other arm, so that I was the only one he was touching. Ron and Hermione had paused and were watching curiously. 

“It’s strongest if someone is touching you, but it works even if they aren’t,” he said, and waggled his eyebrows at me. “Ready? I’m going to give you a soft one, don’t worry.” I nodded, having no idea what to expect. “Intent matters, so if I tell you my word is ‘Hastings’, pft, nothing happens, but, if I mean it…”

I saw Sirius nudge Remus into watching out of the corner of my eye, and looked back at Jericho just as he grinned and snapped out “Hastings!”

His collar flashes red under his skin, electricity racing down his arms to crackle against my hand, jolting me like a hex. My brain went white, then glitched sideways and up became carrots and tubas smelled like long division and ennui.

I jerked my hand away, shaking it with a garbled string of almost-words that became actual words as my brain started back up. My hand had gone mostly numb up to the elbow, but I had felt it along the bond between us, a searing pain like touching an exposed nerve with a hot match.

Sirius snickered, and the sound made my heart twist. I had missed him, and hadn’t let myself feel the loss yet, and here he was, miraculously alive and whole, and giggling into Remus’ chest. Remus looked absolutely besotted, wrecked with it. He looked up at me, his eyes sliding off my face and higher and then he was huffing with laughter between the whines Sirius was still pulling out of him. I reached up with the hand that didn’t feel like a frozen ham; my hair was standing on end, crackling faintly.

“Unable to ignore is right,” Jericho said. “No shame in tapping out, either. I’ve only ever worded once when someone was inside me, and he just about forgot his name for a hour.”

Sirius twisted a little ball of shadow up and flicked it at Jericho, bouncing off his head like a paper ball. “When I've got such a glamorous name, how could I forget it?”

“Wha-what does your name mean?” I said, still shaking off the hard shock. 

“Ask the Bastard, he named me,” Sirius said, jerking his head at Severus, behind me.

“Arsehole,” Sev said flatly.

“Yeah, but what does it mean?”

“Arsehole,” he said again, not-smiling so hard that the sides of his mouth were twitching. “Or, ‘Anus’, if you want to be formal about it. It is latin, after all.” 

I gaped at him. “You actually _named_ him _Arsehole?_ He’s right, you _are_ a bastard!”

Sirius grunted in agreement, twisting his hands in his white shirt and pulling it off over his head. Remus’ laughter tapered off as he watched, his bound hands twitching like he wanted to touch the muscles bunching and shifting under the inked, scarred skin. 

“I should have named him peacock, the vain thing. Look at him preening.” The words were harsh, but the tone was fond. 

“And he’s not just _a_ bastard, he’s _The Bastard,_ anyway.” Sirius sent a mock-scowl at Severus, and they were _friends_ , I realized. How the hell did that happen? But I couldn’t deny it, as they sniped back and forth, Jericho joining in like this was a normal thing, not some act to … do what? Make me more comfortable?

Severus was not in the habit of doing things to make me more comfortable, I thought, and then shook my head as I realized that as terrible as it had been, it could have been so much worse. But clearly, looking at Jericho, and even Sirius, it could have been so much _better,_ too.

I had so many questions suddenly that I sat back, blinking rapidly, my eyes stinging behind my glasses. Severus slid his hand around the back of my neck and squeezed lightly, and I gave him a tight smile.

Jericho squinted at me for a moment and then unfolded from the couch, all soft leather and boneless grace. He gave me a wink as he headed to the kitchen, filling a pitcher of water and grabbing a stack of glasses. Ron and Hermione looked at each other and then followed him, cornering him at the tap, their heads close together. 

Sirius had gotten caught up in playing with Remus again, slowly rocking into him, apparently hard by some feat of magic or just because he had missed him that much, I didn’t know. 

Sev tugged my hair, and I dropped my head back onto his arm after a heartbeat of resistance. “Nothing you don’t want,” he said softly, and I shook my head, grinding my knuckles across my damp eyes.

“Not the problem. I know what I want. I’m just wondering what I could have _had.”_ Talking to him so openly was exhilarating, and terrifying, and a bunch of other feelings I couldn’t sort out. Envy, not jealousy, and I didn’t know what to do with it. I chewed my lip, and his hand slid into my hair and clenched, the slight pain like a shot of much needed whiskey.

“Ah, that particular ache I am all too familiar with. I have several remedies for it, but letting us play with you for the next few hours is the one I recommend most highly. I can promise you that I can make you stop thinking all together,” he said silkily. “There will be time enough tomorrow for more questions, and I think you will find Culus and Jericho a wealth of information when I turn reticent.”

“Broody, you mean.”

“... Yes.” 

I thought about that for another moment, his fingers carding through my hair. “What if I want somebody to stop but I don’t want to… electric eel them?” I swam my hand through the air and imagined lightning crackling off of it.

He turned me to look at him, his face serious. “Then say ‘stop.’ I will always stop if you ask me to, unless we’ve agreed otherwise. What was between us before was… not this. I wanted you to have an extra assurance, if you will. Show you that you had some teeth to that bite.”

I felt my cheeks go hot again. Damn blush response was always giving me away. “What?” he said, and tapped my lips with his finger. I glanced at him and then looked away. This was ridiculous, feeling shy with him of all people. There was no person on earth that knew me better than he did, including myself. 

The truth of that crumbled the last of the doubt away, and I sagged, giving myself permission to want this, to let go and just be here for a little while. He sensed something shifting, and hummed a small question.

“What if I...say stop but don't mean it? I mean, habits, and all.” I looked up at him through my lashes, and let a memory roll up of begging him desperately to stop while he opened me on four fingers, overlaying my internal monolog of begging just as desperately that he fuck me deeper, use me harder, too far gone to control my shame, only barely able to contain the words dribbling from my lips.

I felt the lust surge in him, and his determination to go slow bending, but did not break. “Ah, yes, you do beg so, so prettily,” he said huskily, and I sucked his thumb into my mouth when he tapped my lips. He tasted like leather and salt. I moaned, my eyes sliding shut happily, deciding that whatever happened tonight, I’d just deal with it at the same nebulous time we dealt with Severus’ ‘absolution’.

Perhaps I’d never have to deal with it at all. 

The music started back up again, speeding up now, a faster beat, some blaring guitars. The singer broke in, snarling words I couldn’t understand, but his voice sounded familiar.

The groan that came out of Remus was more horror than lust. “I destroyed every one of those tapes I could find, hexed the rest out of existence. How the bloody hell do you have this?” he gasped, breathless from Sirius’ mouth biting marks into his thighs, rather than outrage. 

Severus laughed like the concept was ridiculous. “I produced that album. You think I gave you every copy? But this is remastered from my personal recall of the original recording.”

I remembered Remus’ blue mohawk and frantic, strung out fights. My brain stuttered and skipped at the concept of Snape having anything to do with _producing an album_ , and then caught back up. “Hold on, is this you singing?”

Remus’ flush spread from his cheeks to eat his whole face, and he turned his face into his arm, trying to hide. Sirius laughed, rolling his knuckles up his ribs to tease at his nipples, and joined the chorus, his gravelly voice tearing through the cabin, singing a duet with the voice snarling pain out in the music. 

_“Turn the world inside out_ _  
_ _To touch you one more time._ _  
_ _Without your teeth at my throat_ _  
_ _To hold back the blood-_

_I can’t.”_

Sirius clicked his fingers, and the shadows let Remus’ arms drop free. He immediately wrapped his face with one hand, and groped for Sirius with the other. “Oh Merlin, please, stop, shhhhhh.” Black-licorice flavored mortification filled the air. 

Gloved fingers peeled his hand away so that Sirius could growl into his face.

 _“Find someone that hurts enough_ _  
_ _To fill the you-shaped scar._ _  
_ _Twist the moonlight in my fist_ _  
And shove it through - your -_ goddamn _\- teeth-”_

From the kitchen I could hear Jericho echoing the last line along with the distorted guitars, and Severus tapped his fingers to the drumline against my neck.

“Wicked,” Ron said from the kitchen, and Remus moaned like a dying thing.

“Fine, fine, can’t have you expiring on the rug,” Severus waved his hand, and the guitars and vocals dropped away, the drum keeping the same beat but slowing way down, the thrum of the bass stretching into a stuttering hum that went straight through me, made me sweat, made memories spool up of hands and mouths and being pressed open. 

“Wait, I know this song,” I said, and Severus nodded, distracted by Hermione pulling the kitchen door open. The night air swirled in, the beach salt and pine and sweet dry grass.

She flicked her fingers at me as Jericho tugged Ron outside with a finger under his chin. :: Have fun, Jericho has things to show me. We’ll be back later.:: Ron yelped from the garden, and she looked out that way for a moment. :: Maybe quite a bit later. :: She gave me a grin, wrinkling her nose. :: Stretch first, :: she advised, nodding over at Remus, and I sputtered a laugh as she closed the door. I could see her through the windows catching up to the boys, who were necking against the garden gate, the three of them disappearing into the other cabin. 

A small amount of tension left Severus’ body as they left, and I glanced at him. He caught the look and shrugged with one shoulder. “I have no idea where myself and either of your compatriots stand, relatively speaking.” His eyes caught mine, and I couldn’t look away, my mouth drying out as desire finally broke through his determination to reassure me. His finger trailed up my throat, and tucked under my jaw, lifting my chin just a hair. I moaned, my eyes sliding shut.“With you, I know exactly what to do.”

The music shifted into another song I half recognized, and I shivered as it made me want to press my belly to the ground at his feet. His hand cupped my jaw, feeling me shiver. “That’s it, you’re more relaxed with them gone as well. That’s alright, they don’t need to know how badly you want this, do they?”

His words poured over me like honey, my heartbeat spiking even as I sagged against the back of the couch, dropping my head onto his arm with a whine. He slid his fingers through my hair, scratching lightly at my scalp, letting me feel the promise of his nails. “And you do, don’t you? You want to let me splay you out like a deck of cards, show you off, make them pant and whine and beg for a taste of you.” Sweat broke out along my scalp, and I licked a series of tiny laps up the part of his arm I could reach, shivering when my tongue buzzed against what was left of his Dark Mark. I could hear his inhale, feel the twitch of the fingers carding through my hair.

His hand slid into the hair at the base of my neck, and tugged lightly. “Is that what you want? I can treat you as the wondrous treasure you are, and Sirius and Remus and I will take you apart between us, so gentle the only marks on your skin will be from adoring kisses?”

I shook my head against his arm. That image was… something else to think about later. Overwhelming, like bathing in the sun. I had no idea if I wanted that, or if it would destroy me entirely.

From behind me, I heard Remus yip as Sirius groaned out a gravely string of cuss words, and as much as I wanted to turn my head and see what they were doing, I… couldn’t. It was as if my strings had been cut. No, that wasn’t right. My strings were just fine, but my puppeteer was still deciding the play.

I took a deep breath, letting go of trying to pretend I was anything other than ...whatever I was. I glanced up at him, grinning, and then sank my teeth into his arm.

He yelled, and his hand clenched hard in my hair, yanking hard. 

_Finally_.

“Oh, is that it, then? I should have known. You want me to throw you to the wolves so you can be _mauled._ I had almost forgotten what a pain slut you are.” Sirius was laughing. I bit down harder. “Let _GO_ , you little monster!” 

I let go, pulling my knees under me as he hauled me upright by the grip on my hair, shaking his bitten arm. He looked me in the face, brushing a questioning thought against mine. 

“What’s the opposite of a Mockingbird, Sir?” I drawled, and put as much lust and insolence into it as I could. 

He traced his thumb over my lip. “You don’t want us to venerate you, you want us to _obliterate_ you,” he said softly, voice stuck halfway between reverence and concern.

“Only for a little while,” I said, and licked at his thumb. “Tomorrow I can be Harry again, and Sirius, and Sev, but I need - it’s been… ” I faltered, and dropped my eyes, crossing my arms behind me. 

He hauled me in, kissing me hard, moaning somewhere deep in his chest, his teeth just on the good side of bruising. His other hand slid around my wrists and held me fast, his fingers tight enough to make little licks of warm pain roll up my spine. He kissed me until I was panting, squirming against the back of the couch, held fast between his hands.

“I know what you need, … Modah,” he said, and I shuddered hard, gooseflesh racing down my skin, my nipples going hard under my thin shirt.

“Please,” I whimpered, and his arm behind me ground us together, as if he could feel me through the barrier of the couch. His hand slid out of my hair to brush against my cheek. I turned my face into his palm, and pushed a request at him, begging without words.

He pressed a kiss to my forehead, pulling my glasses off and sending them to safety on the mantle, where my wand sat forgotten in the little wood cup. I shut my eyes, and he tightened his hand on my wrists just a fraction of a second before he slapped me, his palm cracking against my cheek hard enough to sting, but not welt. 

I moaned, something inside opening up like a flower nursed into bloom.

“Please,” whispered, almost out of words, and he switched hands for the other side rather than the backhand I had half-hoped for, leaving matching red splotches of fire across my face. 

“Hey now,” Remus started, twisting around to look at us, only to lose the sentence to a gasp as Sirius sent a whirl of tentacles around his cock, spinning them around with a lazy whorl of his finger, like he was stirring a cauldron.

“Oh, the feral thing is worried about you, how sweet. He has no idea what you’re capable of taking.” Snape drawled, his voice cutting. The sound went right through me, my cock jerking, my nipples going hard. I fought the desire to close my eyes, trying to keep some kind of thoughts going. He was still talking, and I was shaking, little tremors against the couch. “Shall we go and show him?” I blinked, thinking for a half a moment that I had hallucinated the last month, and I had never left the castle at all.

I filed the fact that I didn’t feel particularly _upset_ by this thought under “Not Dealing With It Right Now”, (which really, needed a cabinet, not just a folder, at this point) and realized he was waiting for my response.

Sev looked at me, stroking his finger gently down my neck toward my collar, but stopping just above it. He quirked an eyebrow, and I tipped my head back, nudging him further.

His finger slid onto the black line, and I felt him flood into me, the burning paper and woodsmoke and whisky of him, and opened as easily as I had for his questing fingers.

He brushed against my emotions, desire warring with lust, and threads of exhaustion woven through him like sloppy stitches. I pulsed desire colored with worry, unable to find words. The music was louder, the base notes rattling against my skin, and the ache in my cock grew, filling my belly with warmth that made me want to squirm. 

// Your concern is noted, though I would be more worried about your own energy level than mine, if I were you, // he thought silkily. // Have you lost your voice already? //

I licked lips gone dry and watched his eyes drop to my mouth. All these damn questions. He needed to get on with it. I pulled up a few moments from memory of the much better things he could be doing with my mouth rather than needle me with questions. 

Pushing memories around like this was like throwing feathers in the wind, and I felt the impressions leave me and blow through the cabin. 

~ His palm on the back of my head, holding me tight to his skin, his cock so deep in my throat I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but feel him throbbing against my tongue, his frantic, panting groans, his hand wrapped around my throat stroking the last few spurts of come out of himself. ~

My mouth flooded with saliva, and I bit my lip, my plan to get him to hurry up with things backfiring as the memory washed out into the cabin, bouncing into Sirius and Remus and splashing against the windows. The lights in the lamps flickered, warm and hungry.

Sirius groaned, and I heard Remus panting out little strings of curses that chased themselves around in circles “Oh _fuck, oh god, fuck, please hnn god fucking please.”_

Snape slid to his feet and pulled me with him, making me clamber over the back of the couch rather than walking around for me, seemingly unconcerned if I kept up with his fist in my hair or if I fell on my face, but he stiffened his elbow and let me catch my balance as the ottoman decided it should get out of the way just as I was using it as a step. 

“Careful, boy, wouldn’t want you to bruise up your knees. Yet.”

I twisted against his hold in my hair, not to get away, just to feel him clench a little tighter, pull a little rougher. I could see the bruise from my teeth blooming on his arm. By the time we got around the couch to where Sirius was lazily thrusting into a shivering, whimpering Remus, hands tied again and pulled up above his head, I felt like my bones had turned to molten lead, all the worry and fears and fucking questions and apologies and everything else burning off like impurities in a forge. I could breathe, the air a thin mix of salt and firewood and smells that were half memory. 

The beat of the song made me think of kissing Ron, the thick taste of the oil, the smell of it, the feel of his skin, hot and slick and trembling. Snape made a pleased noise, and clicked his fingers at Sirius, who flicked a glance at me and then flashed a bright, almost manic grin at Snape before patting Remus’ knee, as if the trembling, whining man could think about anything but what was happening to him.

“Remus, darling thing, my beautiful scruffy pet, open your eyes for me. Yes, that’s it, that’s good. Oh, so pretty, not a hint of copper, just you, and already all fucked out? We’ve barely begun, darling. I’ve an entire list of things I am going to do to you. But before we get to my list, I need your help, love. Well, actually, no, I don't need you to do anything, you’re just going to lie there and take what I give you, but The Bastard asked me to make him something, and, well… Why use my energy when you’re buzzing like a downed wire?” 

Snape settled on the couch and spun me around to face the two on the rug, letting go at the last moment so that the momentum made me twist, and almost fall, but Sirius called up a swell of thick white and grey smoke, and bumped against me like a friendly dog, pushing me back upright. I caught Sirius’ smirk at Snape, and looked over my shoulder to see him mock-scowling and then inclining his head, like Sirius had won a point in a game…?

He caught me looking, and his mock scowl became a challenging glower. I froze. “Entirely too much supposition in that gaze. I clearly remember promising you that you would not be required to do anything as strenuous as _thinking_ this evening, didn’t I?”

I nodded, and he settled back on the leather couch, bare arms relaxed along the back, knees spread as wide as the silk robe would allow, tipping his head back slightly. My eyes wandered him and made it back to his eyes after a couple of seconds of mute appreciation. His eyes rolled, and he gestured at my pajamas. “Well then, you are wearing _far_ too many clothes. Strip, if you please.”

I started to yank my shirt off, and then paused, wondering if he meant…

His chuckle promised we would get back to this. “Efficiently is acceptable. We are under considerably less pretence here. Unless you’d rather I let Remus claw another set of pants off of you?”

I flushed, and Sirius clucked at Remus, like he had just lost a point…? Alright, there was something going on here, but I was distracted by trying to get out of the clothing I was wearing and by Remus’ fumbling, gasped attempts to explain. I kicked my pants off and to the side, my shirt following, and shivered as I turned back to him, feeling soft and new and vulnerable, as if the pajamas I had thrown away were a skeleton I had outgrown, like a lobster.

“Cold?” 

I shook my head, and he smirked and beckoned with a twitch of his fingers, his eyes raking over me as if he hadn’t seen me naked a thousand times before.

Maybe he hadn’t. How could I be extra naked? 

More shit for the Not Right Now Damnit file.

I slid onto the couch next to him, and he tisked and hauled me into his lap, settling me firmly over the ridge of his cock, and tugging me backward until I leaned my head over his shoulder, relaxing onto him with a sigh. He slid his hands down my shoulders, over my ribs, wandering down until he got to the meat of my thighs, which tightened reflexively as he tried to pull them open.

“Modest, are we? No, that’s not it… Hm, oh, wait, I know.” His voice had dropped into a rumble I could feel through the silk. His hands slid away, and I swallowed reflexively, that voice so close to my skin, the filthy things he drizzled into my ear. “Open your legs. Let me show you off. You are a rare and precious thing, and I _could_ force you, could conjure up tentacles and bind you tight, but you don’t need that right now, do you? You’re going to just relax right back and spread out on my lap, let them both see what I’ve got and they don’t, aren’t you, my toy?”

I shivered hard, but nodded. My knees fell apart like I had been sliced open, laid out bare for the world to see. 

“Good boy,” he rumbled. I rolled my head, whimpering, closing the gap between us to lick his lip, and he pulled me into a deep kiss, his hands slipping under my thighs, hooking my feet over his knees, spreading me wider. Sirius groaned at the same time I did, my cock leaking onto my belly. 

Sirius had retracted all of the tentacles except for the ones binding Remus immobile, but they left small, oval marks behind, like the impressions of suction cups in the shape of fingerprints, a map of dots over his scarred flesh. “Ah we aren’t going to let the Bastard get away with that, are we, love?” he said conspiratorially, eyes locked on mine, citrus and spiced wine and cold dark damp stone, and Remus shook his head, eyes drawn from Sirius over to the couch, just feet away, where I was laid out like a piece of meat. Their gaze was hungry.

“You _did_ want to be mauled, right?” Sev murmured in my ear.

I moaned, my hips jutting up before falling back into his lap, and he hissed as my ass ground down on his cock, hot through the thin silk. 

“Merlin, look at you,” Sirius whispered, and Remus whined in his throat, straining against his bonds. I was blushing, I knew it, my face hot, my chest burning. 

Snape’s hands pressed my legs open even wider, kneading the soft flesh of my inner thighs, drawing their eyes as he dragged his fingertips up, cupping my balls and squeezing, pulling them away from my body. I squeezed my eyes shut as his fingertips rubbed the space behind my balls, sliding over my hole and then spreading wide, exposing me utterly. 

Remus yipped as Sirius grunted, thrusting hard enough to slide them both across the rug, and Snape laughed behind me, pleased and proud. “Ah, you should open your eyes, they’re almost salivating to get a taste. Your skin is so empty, I can almost see Sirius jumping at the chance to mark you. Despite all my training, he’s still a little nippy, I’m afraid.”

I shook my head, hard as hell, turning my face to hide in the fall of his hair, whimpering as his hand on my balls let go and slid higher, twisting up my cock to the tip, wetness dribbling from the tip of my cock. My hole clenched, pulling against the exposing stretch of his fingers.

“Hnnnn, fuck, you’re right, I’d love to bite a row of red teeth marks up those thighs. Give you a trail to follow, eh, Remus-love? Oh, did you forget? Yes, we really are gonna let you fuck him, spread that little hole open around your cock and let you rut him. Do you want that?” Sirius broke off with a hiss that ended in a long groan. “Yeah, I can feel that you do, no matter that you’re shaking your head. What’s the problem, he wants it, you want it, I think it’s a marvelous idea all around.”

Even with my eyes shut I could feel the surging desire, the twining impressions of magic pushing against my skin. My blood pounded in my ears, my face hot, my hands fisted in the silk of his robe, anchoring me as he shifted to show me off even better. His fingertips teased at my rim, but didn’t press into me, just slowly traced endless, maddening loops around my hole.

“I, god, yes, yes I want him but he’s… I’m too…” Remus’ voice shook apart, and I heard him huff and whine as Sirius shifted on the rug, and their voices got a little louder as they moved closer.

“See, as I said, the beast is so worried that he’ll hurt you that he’s willing to give up the first chance he’s had to fuck warm hole in ages.” He spoke to me, but it sparked a faint growl out of Remus, and a low whistle from Sirius.

“I - uf - bed people, damnit.”

“Bed? Yes. Your arse and that maw of a mouth are quite welcoming, as I remember. And those hands, of course. Musicians have such skilled fingers. But how long has it been since you got to fuck someone? How long has it been since you could let go and take what that creature in you _howls_ for?” 

The dark lash of his voice made me sweat, made me pant into the shelter of his hair. He nuzzled at my ear, nipping just hard enough that I twitched with each one as he waited for Remus to respond. 

Remus whined and cried out, his voice breaking into little half phrases, punctuated by wet slurps. “Ah, hn, Sirius, fuck, yes, ok, years. Not since you were captured. Ah, ah! Fuck, please, please, _hnn.”_

“Poor pet, nobody willing to tie you tight enough that you’d let them ride that glorious post?”

“Nobody I’d trust,” Remus murmured, and Sirius made a sad noise.

“So many things I can give you, love. So many things we never had time for. But for tonight, let’s start with that. We’re gonna get him all wet and open and ready for you, and then I’m going to fuck him down on you, would you like that?”

Remus’ answer was a long, drawn-out groan.

“Good, that’s good. But to do that, we need to complete the little task the Bastard has given me. You’ll help me with that, won’t you? Should be easy as pie for you. Just like the games we used to play, back in the dorms, when we found that bricked up auxiliary healing wing.”

“Oh god, Siri, I, what-”

“Shh, pet. I asked you a question. Are you going to help me with my task, or not?”

“Oh god. Yes. Of course, please. Can… can I know what we’re m-making?”

“Nope, that’d be cheating,” Sirius said brightly, and Snape laughed low in his throat.

“While Culus manifests his toys, can I get you to open your eyes for me? I’ve spent years carefully hiding anything remotely interesting from your too-sharp view, and knowing you, you’d just ask for him to do it again once you’ve realized what you’ve missed. I’m not sure the old wolf’s heart could take it twice in a row.”

“Well now, that sounded like a challenge, didn’t it love?” Sirius said to Remus.

I lifted my head off his shoulder like it weighed a thousand pounds, and blinked at him, and then raised my hand to touch my face, as naked as the rest of me.

“Ah, that is an issue that I think I have a solution for.” His lips curled into a smile that made me sweat, made me swallow hard. “Culus, your boy doesn’t need to _see_ for you to accomplish your task, does he?”

“Nope. You have an idea, I can almost smell it.” He looked up at Snape, his eyes bright. 

“Two birds, one stone. Mine needs to be closer to see what you’re doing, and it’d be easier to get him started if he was relaxed, and I suspect yours could use a distraction.” Something passed between them, and Sirius barked a laugh.

“Such altruism! What do you suggest, then?”

Snape nudged my legs down, and pushed me upright, where I swayed drunkenly. He joined me moments later, wrapping his arms around me securely, and I sighed, leaning on him, wanting to go boneless again.

“Hm, he seems to be melting. Perhaps…” Sirius clicked his fingers, and a thick pillow of shadow grew across Remus’ belly, somewhat like the benches we had spent so much time in back at the castle. 

“Taller please, I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“Oh yes, old man, I forgot your advanced age. Wouldn’t want you to fuck on the floor like a savage.” Sirius rolled his eyes at Remus, but the other man was watching me, even as shadows swelled underneath him, lifting both of them knee high, a sacrificial altar of smoke and darkness.

“Much better.” Snape walked forward, and I went before him, as powerless as a leaf in a current. He stopped me next to the bed of shadows, and twisted his head to look down at Remus.

I had a flash of a memory, murky and strange, of a huge black bird peering at something just before it struck. Snape shot me a look, and his hair swung over his face for a second as he looked back at the bound man. Remus nodded after a moment, and Snape smiled, flashing his teeth.

“Alright, here’s how it’s going to go,” he said huskily, drawing his hand up my chest to spread wide on my sternum, white against the tan of my skin, pressing me back into him. Remus and Sirius watched him toy with the pulse in my throat, like dogs watching a dangling treat. “I’m going to spread him out over you and give him a front row seat to Culus’ favorite game while I open up this pretty little hole just enough that you don’t rip him into shreds.”

I moaned at the same time Remus did, and Sirius chuckled at both of us. Snape nudged me up onto the platform, and I brushed up against Remus as I knelt, his too-hot skin and buzzing, forest-floor energy sparking against me. We both jumped, and Snape laughed as he urged me to my hands and knees over him, my cock hanging a handspan from his face.

Sirius waited until I had wrapped my hands around Remus’ bent knees and looked up at him before leaning in for a kiss, giving me time to pull away, but I surged forward to meet him instead, his citrus and damp stone feeling melting and running between us like wax as our lips met, and he cupped his gloved hands gently around my face like I was made of fog, about to blow away.

I didn’t want that at all, and I dropped my hands off Remus to tangle my hands in Sirius’ dark hair like I had wanted to do since I had seen him snarling out of a wanted poster at me, and put every ounce of that hunger into the kiss, and the relief he was _alive_ went with it like the stamp on a letter. He growled, his hands grabbing me harder, shoving his tongue into my mouth like he wanted to fuck my throat with it, pushing lust and worry and desire and sorrow and other feelings all together and feeding them into me in an overwhelming, pent up gush.

I stiffened, too many emotions flooding into me, and started to shake. My breath stopped, my heart squeezing into a hard knot. I couldn’t sort out what was mine and what was coming from him. I couldn’t feel my hands. The soles of my feet went ice cold. 

Snape touched the bottom of my foot and tsked. He reached forward and raked his nails down my back hard enough to raise lines in their wake, and I snapped back into my brain, yelling into Sirius’ mouth. My heart was suddenly pounding, chest heaving as I tore my head away to pant and cry as his palm brushed over the welts, leaning my head on Sirius’ bicep. I arched my spine into the touch, absurdly, pathetically grateful Sev was here.

Sirius pressed a kiss to my forehead, a gentle wave of apology and embarrassment coming from him, accompanied by the image of an overexcited dog jumping up and knocking me over.

I snorted, and took a deep breath, shaking off the drowning feeling, and Sirius pulled me into a hug, leaning over Remus’ body, tucking his chin over my shoulder and sighing deeply. His arms were strong, enveloping. I felt warm down to my toes.

Remus snapped at Snape, his teeth catching a fold of silk over one thigh as he stood next to the dias. Snape grabbed his face, squeezing his jaw hard. “I won’t be treating him differently because of your sensibilities, wolf. We’ve barely scratched the surface of what he’s capable of, and I’m hardly going to stay my hand because you’ve lost your edge.”

“Sadist,” Remus grunted, and Sirius laughed, petting his glove over my hair.

“Well, _yeah_ , Remus. We’ve known that forever. Modah’s got a safeword, he doesn’t need you to protect him. Plus, you’re well and truly unable to do anything about it anyway, love.” 

Snape’s hand cupped my hip and urged me lower. I blushed, my face hidden in Sirius' neck as my cock dragged down Remus’ chest toward his chin, leaving sticky drops. His breath washed hot against my thighs; I could feel the noises he was trapping in his chest. Sirius slid his arms up over my shoulders, holding me securely, and nodded at Snape, who moved to stand behind me, just above Remus’ head.

“Open your mouth, pet,” Sirius murmured, pressing deep. Remus’ needy whine started where my knees pressed to his scarred ribs and washed against the skin of my sack, and I shivered.

“I’m already sick of you whinging like a bitch every time I hurt him, but a muzzle would be a waste of a legendary throat,” Snape said.

I yelped as he jerked my knees back, my cock dropping into Remus’ furnace of a mouth, stuffing his budding retort right back down his throat. He gagged for just a second before Sirius clicked his fingers and the shadows retreated from behind his head, his garbled moan cutting off abruptly as his head tipped back and my cock slid down his throat.

“Fuck,” I gasped, and Remus’ tongue rippled along the underside of my cock, blinding white pleasure shooting through me. I thrust without meaning to, and he took it with a silent grunt, my balls grinding into his face. I pulled back after a few throbbing heartbeats, apologies bubbling on my tongue. He sucked in a wet breath as soon as he was able, and lifted his head, chasing my retreating cock.

Sirius snapped his fingers again, and Remus’ freed arms wrapped around my hips, his fingertips digging into the meat of my ass, dragging me back down. I shuddered, not fighting the clutch of those greedy, hot hands. He settled me far deeper than I’d dare push into anybody’s throat, little buzzy hums of lust and desire and sparking, dancing swirls of happiness rolling off of him. 

Leather rubbed across my cheek, and I blinked up at Sirius, his grin lighting up the air around him. Or… Or was he really glowing? 

Remus’ throat spasmed around me as Sirius started fucking into him harder. My mouth dropped open, and Sirius watched my face with a look of wonder that would have made me uncomfortable, had my brain not been entirely out of thoughts at the moment. Every slam of his hips rocked up Remus’ body and shook his throat around me.

“That’s it, love, let him suck you down. He’d never say it, never ask for it, but our little wolf dearly loves a cock deep down his throat, choking until he’s dizzy and near passing out.”

Remus twitched around me, and then drummed his fingers against my hip in acknowledgement, nuzzling against my sack, trying to get me even deeper. 

Snape moved to my side, trailing his fingers slowly up the back of my thighs, and then slapped my ass hard. The pain made my cock jump, his throat spasming. “And he has yet to explain to me how he can breathe through his ears. Must be a secret of lycanthropy.” He spanked me a few more times, and then leaned on my ass on one elbow, to talk to Sirius, laughing when Remus flailed for a moment like a pinned frog.

“Oh god,” I whimpered, desperately wanting to thrust, but I’d come in seconds, I was sure of it. I flung my hand out and caught Snape’s robe, gripping tight. 

“Hm? What’s that? If you’ve lost your words you have nothing to beg with, Modah,” he said silkily, and I looked over at my shoulder at him, panting, sending him a thick smear of memories of him stopping me from coming a hundred ways.

~ His hand around my balls, pulling tight, snapping a silvery ring around them and the smile that had twisted his lips as I writhed ~ Pulling me bodily off of Ron, and dousing me in cold water ~ His lips around the head of my cock, fluttering his tongue against the ridge, his fingers playing with with nipples already teased into swollen nubs, ready to pinch as soon as I gaspingly told him I was going to come, and the look on his face when I spilled over his tongue on the pain of that alone ~

Snape smirked at me and pulled my hips up, slapping Remus’ hands away. My cock slid out of his mouth to jerk in the icy air. Remus gasped and shook against my thigh, coughing and wheezing, his hands pulling at my hips like he couldn’t stop himself. 

“I intended this to be a distraction from your task, but, as so often happens with Modah involved, things have escalated quickly. I’d get on with it, Culus, or we’ll have to wait for him to recharge.”

“If we time it right, I can use both, you know.”

“If you can manage it. I don’t think Modah’s going to last long once you start, unless I put a ring on him, which is what he was begging for so prettily with that little display.” His hand slid down to my balls, tight against my body, and rubbed gentle fingers over them. “And I find I’d rather see how long he can hold out on his own. If he can make it to the end of your task I’ll forfeit the match, but I don’t think he can do it.”

I shook, my cock spattering drool and precome onto my thighs, onto his chest. 

“Bet he can,” Sirius winked at me, and I shook my head. 

“Done. I don’t think he would have made that bet. But to make it fair… Wolf, if you can make him come before Culus finishes, I’ll brew you an entire _batch_ of Moondrops.”

Remus laughed. “I would have done it for free, but now I’m even more motivated,” he said, leaning up on his elbows to drag his tongue across my balls. I hissed, and raised my hips a little further. 

Sirius frowned, amusement twitching at the corners of his downturned mouth. 

“Well, that’s not fair. Let’s see if we can distract Remus, shall we?” he said in an exaggerated whisper, and I felt Remus snort against my skin, his tongue lapping across the patch of skin behind my balls, heading higher.

I looked up at Sirius, eyes wide. I tried to tell him to hurry up, but Remus was faster, his tongue rolling against the pucker of my hole, and all that came out of my throat was a moan. 

“Someday you’ll learn to stop betting against me, Culus,” Snape said, leaning on one hip and sneaking a hand between my belly and the shadows that held me out of Sirius’ way to lightly tease at my nipple. My eyes closed, brain going foggy. Snape murmured something to Sirius I didn’t catch, his other hand petting down my back, leaning in to suck at my throat.

The music got a little louder, the bass rumbling. I could feel it in my skin, in the ink of my tattoos, in the air as Snape brushed the hair off my nape and wrapped his hand around the back of my neck, holding tight, his thumb pressed up under my ear, his nails sharp points.

“Your hand touches his cock and you’ll regret it, Rem,” warned Sirius, and the mouth driving me insane froze. I opened my eyes to see Sirius pressing a kiss to Remus’ bent knee before dipping his head and biting a bruise into his calf already spotted with red and purple blotches.

Remus jerked and yelped against me, and I shivered, Snape’s fingers holding me still between them.

“You lost in there?” Sev said softly into my ear, his other hand still plucking at the same nipple. I kept waiting for the pinch, kept tensing every time he pulled at it, but it never came. I couldn’t work out if I wanted it or not, but the anticipation was worse, and I looked over at him, dark eyes hot and hungry, and lunged up to kiss him, surprise making him clench his fingers.

The little arrow pain shot through me, igniting fire behind it and I arched backward, my cock jerking. I felt that staticky magic feeling start, aching in my skin, and pushed something like a thought through the fog, suddenly afraid that maybe Zil’s fix had failed, that I’d catch fire or shoot lightning or something.

He rubbed his thumb over my nipple. // You’re fine. That’s expected, as strong as you are, you’ve just never been able to feel it before now. I kept much from you. // He rolled my nipple lightly, stoking the fire higher. I shook, the crackles making everything brighter, goosebumps coming up on my back.

// Remus is feeling much the same, though the physical metaphor his magic has chosen to take is vastly different from your own, as bright as both of you may be. //

He was rolling both nipples now, fingers alternating between teasing and tight, and I decided that for right now, he could take the blame if anybody got burned. 

I relaxed into the hold of his hands, into the grip of the shadows and the throb of the music. 

“That’s my good boy,” Sev said into my ear, and I moaned, the sound echoing oddly in the air, catching the waves of the music and washing them back to me in distorted patterns. 

Remus jerked underneath me, his hips jutting into the air hard enough to almost escape the clutches of the shadowy tentacles, his hands clenching tight on my thighs. 

“Oh hell,” Sirius said, his broken voice raking over me like nails dipped in oil as he swayed into my shoulder like he was going to faint. I felt him take a deep breath, and huff out a laugh. “Merlin. You warned me, but … Merlin.” 

I turned to him, seeking without opening my eyes, and he petted his hands over my face, and leaned his forehead against mine. “Don’t go too far away, dove. The Bastard wants you to watch, remember?” and the shadows shifted, sliding me down a little lower. 

Oh yeah. What was I watching again? I blinked my eyes open, and Remus’ cock rose before me like a bound sacrifice, the leather wrapped tight enough that he bulged between the black lines, his foreskin bunched up and held closed with a translucent clothes-pin. Sirius’ gloved hand held it just under the head, keeping it from lolling back against his body.

“If you could hold him still, that would help,” Sirius said to me softly, and Remus moaned under me, rolling his head against my thigh before dropping back with a gasp as I wrapped both hands around him, propped on my elbows on the blob of shadows. He trembled, sweat glistening as it dripped off his shins onto his thighs, crossed with bands of black and scars of pale pink.

He throbbed against my fingers with his heartbeat, hot like he had been in a bath. The skin slid and bunched, the pinched top leaking drops in time to Sirius’ tiny, insistent thrusts.

Snape moved behind me, tugging my hips back and pushing my knees under me, palming the cheeks of my ass, his fingers pressing divots into the soft skin. I tightened my grip on Remus and he yelped, the noise hot against the tip of my cock for just a moment before Snape pressed me down onto Remus’ face.

He swallowed me down like he couldn’t breathe without my cock in his throat, and I panted, pulled back to the edge almost immediately by the hungry noises I was cutting off.

“Open your eyes, wolf,” Snape murmured, dragging his fingertips across the tattoo on my lower back; and the spells flickered through me, the cleaning charm, my hole loosening and slicking.

Remus groaned around me, the sound buzzing up my cock and into my spine. 

“I do hope you’re going to give us more of a fight than that,” Snape said to Sirius, his voice dripping honeyed malice as his thumb toyed with my spit-damp ring before dipping inside. 

Sirius grinned at him over the span of my back, twirling something shiny between his fingers. “Oh I see, we’re done playing, is that how it is?” 

Snape wrapped his fingers around my balls and tugged them down as he slid two fingers into me, holding me pinned on his hand for a heartbeat before he started fucking me with them, quickly falling into a rhythm I knew down to my bones. I arched my back, forcing my cock deeper into the clutch of Remus’ throat, and my skin fizzed magic like rain on hot metal.

“I told you not to take that bet.”

I pushed back into his hand, and Sirius clicked his fingers near my ear. The noise went through me and out again on a gasp, my eyes shooting to his.

“Mind your task,” he said, the faintest hint of playful disapproval coloring his voice, overlaid with the image of a warning snap from sharp teeth.

“Yes, pay no attention to us back here,” Snape said, and added a third finger, the stretch just a little bit too much, too fast. I whimpered but held my hands steady, and pushed back again, harder, eyes never leaving Sirius’ face. I nodded at him to continue, and the shadows around us pulsed and dripped upwards, new tentacles wrapping around my hips, around Remus’ head, trapped between my thighs.

Sirius’ wrecked voice slid between us just as easily, “There, now all you have to worry about is holding him up. I’ve got his hips, and his head, and I know how long he can hold his breath. It’s my job to worry about him right now, he doesn’t have to, and neither do you.” 

Remus couldn’t groan, I was too far down his throat, but his cock twitched against my hands, against the bonds. A thick drop escaped the bunched foreskin to run down the flare of his head before dripping onto my skin, where it sparked and burned like a hot coal.

“All I need you to do is keep those fuck-me eyes open and hold his cock right there. That’s your job. I will be very disappointed if you fail your job.” I shivered and clutched a little tighter. “Now, if you could manage to resist the sweet pull of his throat, the stretch of those long, bony fingers, for just a few minutes, why…”

His knuckles rolled over my cheek, “... why then, I’d be _proud_ of you.”

I would make him proud of me.

The throb of desire his words caused dripped visibly from my skin as a thick golden glow filled with the bouncing, zinging white sparks I was starting to associate with my own magic. I had half a second to wonder if I was the only one who could see it when I felt Snape drag the side of his hand down my back and send a warm gush of it to flood down my ass to drip off my balls and spatter onto Remus’ face, running thick down my thighs and smearing into his cheeks, soothing the friction burn already forming on my inner thighs.

I set my jaw and nodded again at Sirius, determined to hold out as long as he needed me to. He was watching my face, slowly drawing circles and swirls in the thick sheen of desire seeping from my pores, his lips curving up on one side, his eyes hot with lust and warm with mirth.

“Don’t worry, I’ll hurry,” he said, dragging his finger down my throat, gathering a finger full of the golden, sparkling goo. “Well, sort of,” he amended, carefully coating the long shiny rod he was holding. “Can’t go too quickly with these sorts of things.”

I looked at the long, thin rod, and down at Remus’ bound cock, held securely between my fingers, and my mouth fell open as blood rushed into my cheeks, my body clenching around Snape’s fingers. He laughed quietly behind me, the hand that wasn’t fucking me open teasing the base of my cock, pushing against Remus’ wide open mouth.

“Aren’t you glad I got you such a good view?” he said, and both Remus and I moaned our agreement.

Sirius shook his head as Snape snickered. “You’ll make his ego so big we won’t be able to fit him back in his body,” he said, and clicked his fingers, the tentacles letting Remus’ head drop a little bit, my cock slithering out of his throat but resting on his tongue, giving him just enough room to breathe.

Every sip of air he pulled in rattled back out as a groan, and Sirius winked at me as he vanished the clip holding Remus’ foreskin closed at the same time the tentacles pushed my cock back down his throat. 

Only the first part of his whimper escaped before I cut off his air, and Sirius hummed , pleased by the twitching beneath him. “Deep breath, love,” he drawled, “oh, wait…” 

Snape barked a laugh as Remus smacked at what little of Sirius he could reach, and he slid his hand around Remus’ chin, gathering spit and dragging it back up to press it into my hole, along with the tip of his littlest finger. His other hand settled on the base of my spine, his fingers tapping faintly along to the beat of the music, as he tested how far he could get the bunched fingers into my hole before I flinched. He hummed and went back to slowly fucking me with three fingers.

Sirius tugged and rolled the loose skin, each movement making more and more clear drops escape and slick my hands. “You’re lucky I managed to get a tie on him before he got all the way hard, since you’re the one taking him tonight.”

I looked at the cock in my hands, as thick as a butterbeer bottle but longer, and swallowed hard. Sweat trickled down my skin, and I bit my lip as my cock twitched, deep in Remus’ throat.

“Oh yes, it gets even larger,” Snape murmured, and I shivered, golden desire seeping up again. He leaned over me, his silk robe sticking to the moisture, his lips tracing the scar he had left in my shoulder. “How I have missed you,” he said, and I pressed back on his fingers as much as I could. 

“Eyes front, young man,” Sirius said sternly, and I focused, trying to keep my head, but my skin was tingling, my brain melting under the layers of sensation. I could taste the magic on the air, smell it, feel it fizzing and running from my skin. 

“You’re going to lose, Culus,” Snape said over my shoulder to Sirius. “Get on with it.”

“You are a greedy, horrible git, but yes, yes.” He took a deep breath, and rubbed his cheek up Remus’ bent leg, “They just both feel so damn good.”

Snape hummed in agreement. 

“Alright, Remus, all you need to do for this is relax, and don’t come until I say so, alright? I’ll be letting you breathe every thirty seconds, but I don’t want you having to worry about counting, so I’ll do that for you, too.” Sirius pushed the loose foreskin down, and guided my fingers to hold it for him. My fingertips just barely touched the exposed, nearly purple cockhead.

Sirius rubbed his gloved fingers over the sensitive skin, sending shivers all through Remus, like dropping rocks into a well. “Shhhh, shhh, love, just let me do what I want. You know I can anyway, might as well relax and take it.”

The last little bit of resistance dissolved as Sirius touched the rounded tip of the shining rod to the slit, running over it over the edges gently. The shivers grew, and the tentacles pulled him off my cock. 

“Oh god, Siri, wha-” and then pulled him back on again, before he could get a full breath.

Snape tsked, and dropped his hand off my back to rub across Remus’ ribs. “Should use that time to breathe, you know. Don’t worry, I’m sure he’s gotten better at counting to thirty since he saw you last.”

Sirius snorted, and dragged the little rounded end of the stick in a spiral toward the center. He watched my face as I tracked the path. “Just gotta hold him steady,” he murmured, and I nodded. He leaned in close, touching his forehead to mine, blowing over the twitching flesh caught between my fingers.

// …? // I managed to send him.

“Hm? Oh, I forget that you were in Professor Horrible’s House of Mirrors that whole time.”

Snape grumbled against my back, and sucked a mark on my spine.

“This is called a sound. Don’t worry, Remus has experience with these, don’t you, love?” Remus twitched, and I knew Sirius was talking to him as much as me. “I found I rather enjoy them, myself, as I keep getting myself stuck where I have nobody to play with for long periods of time. Nothing, really, feels exactly the same. And, in this case, I’m going to use this sound to open him up a little, and then… well, then I have a treat for him.”

This time, Remus gasped in a full breath before the tentacles pulled him back up.

I could feel my heartbeat in my hair. I was pressed between Severus’ bony chest and the blob of shadows, my cock engulfed in wetness so hot I felt like I should see steam every time he was pulled off me. The scent of Sirius’ leather gloves and the musk from Remus’ weeping cock and the woodsmoke citrus forest floor feel of all of them made my head swim.

The tip of the sound dipped into Remus’ cock, and he shook against me, his hands scrabbling for a moment before Snape gathered both up and pressed them to my ass. “Hold him, if you can’t be still,” he growled, and Remus’ fingers dug in tight. I hissed, but couldn’t escape the grip of Sirius’ tentacles long enough to squirm away.

Or towards, for that matter.

Sirius let the sound sink a little bit and then pulled it back, gently, and dipped it in again, never forcing, just letting the weight of the rod and gravity move it lower. Every touch made Remus twitch and shake under me, his pulse throbbing under my fingertips. When Sirius slid it all the way out, a thick pulse of desire followed, running down onto my hands, slippery and hot. I licked my lips, wanting to taste him but I didn’t want to get in the way. 

Sirius gathered a drop on his gloved finger, and held it out to me. “Taste, pup.” 

I leaned forward the tiny distance to lap it from the leather, and moaned as the expected salt and musk flavor was overwhelmed by the magic that came with it.

~ tearing through the underbrush, the smell of terror sweet and burning, the prey so close I could almost taste it, a thousand inconsequential wounds leaking blood, the moon a discordant howling whirlpool of madness that sucked pieces of me away every time I dashed through the light ~

Snape rotated his fingers inside me and pressed hard against my prostate, pulling me back to myself with a body-wracking shiver, clenching but unable to move my hips, to thrust down the throat taking me in. I was as caught as Remus, pinned and opened and bound just as surely. 

My cock pulsed against Remus’ tongue when he was pulled up next, and he nursed the head of my cock like an animal, seeking his own comfort even as the lapping of his tongue drove away what little ability to think I had gotten back.

I managed not to come. I remembered it was important, but the reason fled me entirely. I held Remus’ straining cock steady, that was important, too. Sirius was talking to Snape, but their words sounded slow, and thick, echoing strangely in my ears.

The highlight on the edge of the sound was leaving rainbow traces that leaked like an oil slick into the thick drops Sirius brought up. It was deep enough now that Sirius stopped pulling it all the way out, just lifting it a few inches and letting it slide back, going deeper and deeper. 

Remus’ hands fell away from my ass, and Snape shifted, still pressing into me, but leaning down to pet his hand over Remus’ wet face, the bony knuckles of his hand grinding into my perineum as he spoke to Remus in wobbly, underwater tones.

There was no way on earth I could have heard Remus say anything, because his lips were stretched obscenely wide around the base of my cock, but the snarled, panting “get on with it!” sure sounded like him.

Sirius was saying something to me, but I couldn’t make it out. Everything wavered slightly, like the air was hot, but the gasping breaths I was sucking in were almost cold, compared to the furnace of his throat, and the white-hot press of Snape’s fingers inside me. Pain radiated from my fingers, and Sirius carefully pried them off of Remus’ cock, rubbing the cramp I hadn’t even really felt out of the muscles.

“Ok, going to shift your job, love. Oh, look at that frown, dear-heart, you’ve struck me to the quick. I’m not saying you’ve failed, but you are doing _such_ a good job you’ve taken over hurting yourself from the Bastard, and he just hates that, the greedy sot. I just am going to have you stroke his cock a bit while I get my new toy ready, alright? Damn Seekers, all single mindedness.” 

Sirius’ broken voice sounded fine, now that everything else was distorted and strange. He sounded just like he had before, the distortions canceling each other out. My frown sputtered into confusion, and Snape made an impatient noise, and started fucking me harder on his bunched hand, raking his fingers over me from both inside and outside.

I threw my head back, gasping, the air iridescent, the music dancing along my skin, Snape’s fingers playing me like an accompanying instrument. I shook, and Sirius made a face over my head. 

“Not my fault you’re dallying. And he’s one good slap or pinch away from shooting straight down the wolf’s maw.” He pulled his fingers out of me with a wet noise I should have blushed at, but I just felt empty and cold, and colder still when the tentacles pulled Remus off. All the way off, my cock slapping into my belly, pulsing with my heartbeat.

Snape rubbed his hand down my back, and I could feel him checking on Remus as well.

I whined, and Sirius gently reminded me to move my hands by curling the gloves around them and using my fingers to jack Remus off, the ridges of the tie around him catching on the pads of my palms. 

The sound was only a few inches long, sticking from the twitching head of his cock, the rest buried deep in the length I was stroking. I could see his cock moving up and down around the shimmery gleam of it, and I pulled a little harder, feeling like I was fucking his cock with it, even though it stood there untouched.

“Fuck, fuck, please, I need, need, hnnnn” Remus wasn’t making much sense, but I couldn’t put a sentence together with a map myself at the moment, so I worked the fat cock in my fist and watch it weep rainbow tears and ached to come.

Sirius pulled his hands apart, like I had seen Brae do, and a long blue rod appeared between them, glittering in the light like it was drinking in every sparkle that glinted off the facets under the surface. He hummed, pleased, as he ran his fingers over it, checking for rough spots, before he clicked his fingers and coated it in a thick layer of lube.

“Deep breath, love,” Sirius murmured, and drew the sound from Remus’ cock, inch after inch, seemingly forever. A flood of clear precome followed it out, urged by my hands. We both moaned as it coated my fingers, making him slicker. 

My cock drooled onto Remus’ chest, but I couldn’t look away as Sirius replaced the silver rod with the end of the blue one. This one was thicker, but the edges of it were blurry, hard to look at.

As soon as it touched the tip of Remus’ cock, he yelped, his begging becoming whining pleas as Sirius slowly let the weight of it start sinking down into him.

“Here, this isn’t going to take long, and I want to make sure Moony gets his treat.” Sirius moved one of my hands up, so the blue sound rested against my fingers as it sank. 

As soon as I touched it I knew why Remus had yelped. The surface was smooth, not because of the lube, but because it was moving, somehow, shifting faster than I could see, the nerves on my hand where it touched sparking and stinging and shrieking, like they couldn’t figure out what signal to send. It was hot and cold, sharp and soft, flat and smooth and rough and very, very blue.

I watched another inch sink inside him, and the leather thong tied around him stretched as his cock grew despite it. I couldn’t help but wonder what it felt like, and moaned, wanting to lick at his cock where the rod sank into him, taste that wild chase and the strangeness of the substance and let my brain dissolve between them.

Sirius was unlacing one of his gloves, carefully pulling the knot open with his teeth. He caught my eye and winked, and peeled the soft leather off, his hand underneath nothing but electric blue lightning trapped in a ghostly shell, crackling from the shattered bones of his wrist.

I cried out, more from shock than fear, and he wiggled it at me. “Pretty neat, huh? I’ll explain tomorrow, don’t worry about it.”

He set his glove on my head, and the smell of the leather and the musk of Remus’ cock invaded my nose.

“Ok I’ve got it from here. Good job, all you need to do now is not come until I say so. Can you do that for me? I’m already so proud of you for lasting so long.” My eyes slid closed, pleasure shooting down my spine, and only Snape’s fingers grabbing and yanking on my balls kept me from coming right then.

“Amature,” he scoffed at Sirius, who laughed, husky and low, wrapping my hands around Remus’ thighs as he set to taking Remus absolutely apart.

Remus keened as Sirius seated the blue sound as deep as it would go, the faintly flared base ending in a spiral. Sirius twisted the sound a few times with his still gloved hand, letting him get used to the feel of it, or perhaps just tormenting him. The noises he was pulling out of Remus’ throat were terrible, and wonderful, and I drooled envy from my cock even as I bit my lip in sympathy.

“You’ve done so well, Moony love, my beautiful boy, are you ready for your treat? Yes, of course you are, hush, I can’t understand you when you’re crying so hard, love. That’s it, there you go. I know, it’s so deep in you. All the way down, sweet boy. All the way, resting right against where I’m fucking into you from the outside. And in just a moment, I’m going to send you a love letter I’ve been working on for years, something just for you. And you’re going to love it, and hate it, and come so very, very hard for me.”

The air was thick with magic, or maybe I couldn’t breathe because all of my blood was in my cock or thundering in my ears. 

Black tentacles wrapped Remus’ arms tight, and Sev’s hand slid around to grip my cock, his other arm holding me across the back. I saw him nod at Sirius, who grinned triumphantly and pressed a smacking kiss to my forehead. “Knew you could do it,” he whispered, and my cock throbbed.

“Alright, Remi, my good boy. You can come whenever you want to once I start, but I’m not stopping until I’m done, no matter what you say.”

Sirius dropped his glowing hand down, between his legs where he was still fucking into Remus’ twitching body, and winked at me as he pressed his fingers onto his perineum. 

The blue lightning crackled, and Remus _howled_ , arching against the hold of the tentacles, fighting and sobbing and keening as Sirius slowly fucked him with the sound, little forks of lightning escaping the hole and dancing across the wet head. Snape’s hand stroked me, hard and fast, and he set his nails to my skin, just above my ribs. 

“Good boy, Modah,” he said, and raked my back hard. The pain ate the last of my control, and I was fucking into the slick hold of his hand and arching into the drag of his nails, and Sirius was doing something with the sound, his eyes shut in concentration, the air crisp with the sounds of Remus sobbing and panting, his cock jerking.

The leather lace snapped, and I saw his balls draw up, his cock growing impossibly bigger as Sirius rotated the sound one last time before pulling it from his cock like a sword from its sheath, Remus’ orgasm following it with a a stuttering roar, light boiling from the tip of his cock along with the jet of come that missed my face by a handspan before pattering back down onto my hands like spilt lava. I came, helplessly, shooting so hard it splashed off of Remus’ heaving chest and hit his cock, still jerking.

Sirius was twisting the blue sound in the air, winding the opalescent light around it like silk on a spindle, drawing it out as long as he could. 

Just before I passed out, I had the ridiculous thought that Sirius kind of looked like a spider.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Quite a buildup on that one, kept having to stop for cold drinks. And you thought the LAST chapter had a lot of smut. Oh, my dear summer children, the next few are drenched in it.
> 
> Thank you so much for your patience as I craft this beast. 
> 
> Taking a month break for NaNoWriMo, but, knowing how my brain works, I'll probably have at least some of the next few chapters written by the time NaNo is done. Plus, I'm doing fanfiction this year for NaNo, so you'll get to see what I write, anyway. More doodles may appear, too. Any requests?


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, my break in November for Nanowrimo turned into... a lot more than that, but I'm back with another giant chapter for you. Thank you so much for your patience while I wind up all these threads. :D
> 
> Super big thanks go to the ducks, hens, and other barnyard fowl over at the Pacify server; I don't know what I would do without you.

I woke slowly, my body warm and sluggish, my face smashed into someone who _felt_ like Remus, even with my eyes closed. I rubbed my cheek into him, feeling scar tissue and the prickly curls of hair on his chest. I could hear the air whoosh in and out of his lungs, the steady lub-dub of his heartbeat. 

His hand softly stroked my back. I imagined I could feel the difference when his fingers crossed one of the lines of the mantle of feathers, like the ridges of his fingerprints could snag on the ink under my skin. After another few moments of drowsy confusion, I lifted my head off his chest, even though it felt like it weighed a stone. 

We were in a nest of pillows and blankets in the center of the room, the couches pushed back even farther than normal, the wooden floor softened into a shallow bowl. It was dark, the lamps out, moonlight spilling in through the big windows and soaking the room in silvery light.

Remus nudged my head, and I turned, squinting at the shapes at the window. Without my glasses they were smeared dark shadows, but I watched, fascination creeping through the thick layer of blissful Not Thinking that I was nestled into as deeply as the blankets. 

Severus was stripped to the waist, and slumped on the friendly ottomon. His hair was a dark slash over his face, one arm wrapped around himself tightly, the other holding him up with a death grip on the cushion. Sirius sat behind him, his warmer skin traced by dark lines, the warm black blob of his gloves rising and falling against the bright smear of moonlight on the beach outside.

I thought at first Sirius was tending to the welts on his back, but something caught the light as his hand moved. I squinted, trying to make it out. Remus hummed and I felt him gather a bit of magic and summon my glasses from the mantle, settling them on my face with a brush of his fingers across my cheek. 

The world swam into focus, and I sucked in a surprised breath. 

The glowing, glittering thread he had spun out of Remus’ pleasure trailed behind the glint of a needle like the tail of a comet as Sirius stitcheda line up Severus’ spine. The muscles in his arms trembled every time the silvery point disappeared and his head dropped further, a hiss escaping him as Sirius paused, wiping a rag over what he had already done. 

Remus shifted up on his elbows to watch, and his voice broke the silence, reciting something from memory.

“But he was exulting in his ignorance," Remus quoted, "‘I shall sew it on for you, my little boy,’ he said, though he was tall as the boy, and he got out his sewing bag, and sewed the shadow onto his foot.”

Sirius looked up, his smile glowing in the moonlight. "‘I daresay it will hurt a little,’ I’m supposed to warn you,” he said to Severus, taking another careful stitch with his needle and thread.

"Oh, I shan't cry," Severus replied sourly, unmoving other than the twitch of his biceps. “Besides, I believe I’m of the opinion that I have never cried in my life.”

The words pricked some memory, but my brain was still made of unripe cheese, and I frowned.

“Peter Pan. Our 6th year production,” Remus supplied. 

I nodded, vague memories of listening to Dudley watch that movie through the cupboard door. Remus paused, but I didn’t have any words yet, so I just rubbed my cheek back into his chest and watched Sirius finish.

It didn’t take much longer, Sirius’ fingers light and quick with whatever he was doing. Severus shuddered once, and Sirius gripped his shoulder with his other hand but kept going, the tip of his needle scratching a glowing sigil in the air as he tied a knot in the cord and then leaned close to break the thread with his teeth, careful to stay out of the way of the static leaking from the scratch.

The knot sucked into Severus’ spine like a cut tendon, and he jerked, only Sirius’ hand on his shoulder keeping him from falling off the ottoman entirely. The glowing scratch in the air bobbed forward, still connected, even though the shining silver cord had disappeared. The static stank of burning metal, and zipped in random directions, white-hot and hard to look at. 

There was a moment of stillness, my ears aching as the pressure built, and Severus nodded over his shoulder at Sirius, who lifted his hand carefully but clearly was ready to catch Severus if he pitched over again. When he didn’t, Sirius murmured something too low for me to hear, and Severus nodded again. Sirius gathered the strands of Severus’ black hair, the light of the sparks glinting on the leather of his gloves and catching on the long strands. He carefully held it out of the way, leaving the back of Severus’ neck pale and bare in the moonlight. 

Severus took a slow breath and then wrenched himself upwards, the sigil smashing into the nape of his neck and sizzling as he pressed back into it, sinking through his skin and wrapping around his spine with an unsettling flash that lit his bones through his skin. I blinked watering eyes, the afterimage of his skeleton ultraviolet behind my eyelids, my ears itching madly.

“That smells horrendous,” Zil said from about a foot behind me, and I almost broke my neck in surprise turning around.

Zil was lounging against a mushroom-shaped pillow with his legs stretched out in front of him, a large bottle resting in his lap providing him with a hint of modesty, since he was naked as a jaybird otherwise. He laughed at the look on my face, and I heard Remus snicker, and then clear his throat and look innocent when I glanced back at him.

“You get used to him doing that eventually. He only has two methods of arrival, ‘flashy’, and ‘he’s right behind you,’” Remus said, and Sirius laughed at that from his spot by the window. Severus was sitting straight up, his face planes of moonlight crossed with twitching shadows as he fought to stay still. Sirius daubed at the burn with a potion that made the whole room smell like cloves.

“Sounds like my kind of bloke. We call that ‘making an entrance,’ love. Almost done here, we’ll be with you gentlemen shortly,” he said, his voice gone back to twisted and raspy, but still as brightly cheerful as only a truly happy Sirius could be. 

I saw him throw Remus a wink, and the pulse of lust and joy that surged between them made goosebumps run down my arms. 

“Finish up then, sastre. I am not going anywhere until our well-done friend explains what you just did, preferably from over here in the comfort of this lovely nest full of tasty morsels.” Zil’s toes traced up my calf, and it felt entirely indecent, for all that it was nothing. Blood rushed into my cheeks and into other areas I thought were exhausted.

“The two of you should have never been allowed within the same _hemisphere_ , for the safety of the world, but it’s too late for it now,” Severus grumbled, and waved Sirius off as he rotated his head experimentally. 

“Eh, your hair is gonna stick to that if you don’t let me bandage it.”

Severus rolled his eyes and ran his palm over the burn on his neck. The air almost-crackled, the potential of it tickling at the little hairs in my nose. I rubbed at my face, and when Severus tugged his hair free and turned to speak to Sirius, I could see that the burn had healed into a puckered scar, as if it was months old. The marks from Zil’s lash, I noticed, didn’t change.

He was moving easier, too, as he shrugged on the sleeveless robe again and did up the buttons, talking quietly to Sirius the whole time. The heavy weight of exhaustion that had clung to him like a shroud was gone, and he thrummed with restless energy, like an animal let out after a long time in a pen.

“Are you coming, or am I going to have to ask again?” Zil’s voice was mild, but there was a note in it that made me shiver. Remus slid his hand over my back, but didn’t say anything, just glanced between Zil and the pair by the window, waiting to see their reaction.

I saw Sirius stiffen, and caught the almost imperceptible headshake Severus gave him that made him relax again, at least externally. They both seemed to be buzzing, now. Remus folded one arm under his head, the other still brushing my back absently. 

Zil hummed and gestured impatiently. Severus waited one long beat, his eyebrow twitching into an arch, and then shrugged and strolled back over to the pile of pillows, Sirius a half step behind him. The way Sirius moved reminded me of Jericho, and there was something predatory about the two of them as they paused at the ring of round bolsters that sprouted from the edge of the nest of pillows, staring down at the three of us. Sirius adjusted his gloves, retying the open laces on them with a twist of his other hand in the air.

I felt nothing of Sirius’ use of magic, even through the faint channel that tied us together. Not like Zil, who I just couldn’t feel at all. It was like Sirius was wearing my Invisibility cloak, but just for whatever weird magic sense I had now. 

Severus and Sirius shared a glance, and Sirius’ lip twitched into a smirk at Severus’ inquisitive look between Remus and I.

“I’ll take the scruffy one, you get the little one,” Sirius drawled, and Remus threw a pillow at him, laughing. The tension broke as they joined us among the cushions, Sirius plastering himself to Remus’ other side, Severus sitting cross-legged next to me, casually leaning on my hip as if I was a sofa. I noticed that he put himself between Zil and the rest of us, and couldn’t decide if it was out of caution, or possessiveness. 

Didn’t matter anyway, they both gave me a warm glow.

His fingers brushed across my ass, as if by accident, as he settled down, and my legs curled around him. Sirius reached across and stuck a hand between us, and something clicked, like a circuit closing. I could not-quite see the barrier that had formed between us, and Zil.

Zil’s form flickered and swam, glimpses of immense the snake pretending to be a small, drunk human. 

“Sseverus, rude!” he laughed, sitting up and going cross legged, a process that involved his legs moving through each other in a way that was very much not human. I wondered why I hadn’t noticed that before.

Hell, it didn’t even look real. It looked like-

“Ron’s terrible drawing of Malfoy,” I said, and Severus’ lip tipped up, his fingers stroking over my hip, but he didn’t look away from Zil.

“And … What?” Zil said, and I blinked at him innocently, curling a little tighter around Severus. Zil wasn’t human, and for whatever reason, Severus wanted me to remember that. 

Remus rubbed a hand over his face, even as he pulled Sirius closer into our little pile. “Oh don’t start the magical dick swinging, if you please. Or at least, save it for morning?” He nuzzled into Sirius’ hair. “I would much rather spend the time enjoying each other’s company.”

“Hedonist,” Severus drawled, but gestured, and the barrier between us thinned until Zil looked very human again, other than an occasional shimmer along his edges. 

“His point is made, anyway,” Zil said, waving one hand. “Si, si, Severus, ahora entiendo; you are restored to full capacity, and I will ask before touching your things.”

“I am not one of _his_ _things_ ,” Remus said indignantly, and Sirius laughed, deep and real, like Remus had just told the funniest joke in the world.

“Oh, love, you’ve been one of ‘his things’ long before he got his collar on you. About which, by the way, I would like to lodge a complaint with management,” and he poked Severus in shoulder, right over where one of the bruises from Zil’s lash peeked from the black silk.

Remus was frowning at Sirius, his hand dropping to the dark smudge under the skin of his neck. “I hardly think that’s fair-” he started, but Sirius threw a wink at me and surged up to silence him with his mouth, and I had a front row seat of them snogging like teenagers. Remus got a few garbled words of protest out but quickly succumbed, his arm going around Sirius’ shoulder to pull him closer, the thick weight laying against my thigh twitching.

I blinked, glancing down at his cock half expecting it to show some kind of damage, or at least be too sore to get up to anything, but it was slowing filling, growing, as Sirius growled deep in his chest and slammed Remus’ roving hand into the pillows above our heads.

“That didn’t take long,” Severus said, and I laughed a little, distracted by the way Sirius’ shoulders moved under his inked skin, his tattoos both more complex and unrefined than my own. Severus slid his hand down my arm, catching my wrist and guiding my hand to touch the lines I had been staring at.

I glanced back at Severus, and his lip twitched again, before his fingers twisted into the shape for command. His face made it clear that it was my choice, but having a directive actually made everything a little bit easier, and I dipped my head in acknowledgement.

Remus tried to turn to see where I was going as I slithered out from between him and Severus, but Sirius’ mouth wouldn’t let him go, and I trailed a hand across the scars on his thigh as I moved, letting him know I wasn’t going far. 

The black leather of Sirius’ pants was as hot as his skin beneath, as I settled over his legs. He was half over Remus, his knee wedged between thighs dotted with bright mouth-shaped bruises, older marks blooming and fading around them like leaves in milky tea, but I perched atop the both of them easily enough, sliding my palms up Sirius’ back. He arched like a cat into my hands, spine bumping into my chest as I laughed faintly and held on. I dug the heel of my palms down the ridges of muscle outlining his spine, and he groaned into Remus’ mouth before lifting his head to groan louder as I found a tight spot and leaned into it, shifting up to get more leverage.

“Oh my god, that’s not fair,” Sirius complained, his tattered voice warm with approval, and I grinned, digging in harder, caught by a lemon-bright wash of joy and contentment at having both Remus and I _safe,_ and he melted over Remus like butter, going slack and boneless as I continued massaging him.

“I kept telling you that he had a talent for massage, but you never listen to me,” Severus said mildly, and I froze as the words sunk in.

I met Severus' eyes across the small space between us, gulping a little and raising a questioning eyebrow. Sirius’ back had gone hard with renewed tension.

“Oh yes, Culus knows all of it. Has since nearly the beginning.”

I looked down at his back, under my hands.

Sirius knew… all of it? My brain fed me an icy cold spear of all of the times I had cried myself to sleep, or struck out at Severus, or, god, the gaping empty wounds I had felt after Severus had taken my magic. How alone I had felt, like sitting in a cold white spotlight on a dark stage.

“Aw hell,” Sirius said, and spun in my arms like an eel, catching my face between his gloved hands. I could smell the lightning through the thin leather. His thumbs brushed over my cheeks, as if he were wiping away tears I wasn’t crying, and he wrapped me tight in a crushing hug, carefully giving me a trickle of the _longing_ and _regret_ and old, sour _rage_ and all of it overlaid with guilt felt so often that the edges were worn down like sea glass, before he tucked it all away.

I took a breath, letting that image of me alone in the dark spool out, the light finding Ron and Hermione beside me, Severus standing just behind me, the Coraxis, the other Corvatica, and there at the very edge of the light, Sirius, watching with hands tied by decisions. Less like being on a stage, now, and more like sitting on a battlefield after a battle, exhausted, but safe. 

Sirius touched his forehead against mine. “Not going to ask for forgiveness; we’ve got… time for that later, but know that if I could have… if _either_ of us could have figured out a way to spare you, all of you, we would have. God, did we try. This plan is insane, but it’s all we’ve got.” His voice was soft, though to call the scratchy rumble a murmur would be too kind.

It was easy to forget, in this little cabin by the false sea, trapped in a bubble in a mountain, that the rest of the world still existed, that the castle and the Death Eaters and the resistance were all churning along without us. 

I opened my eyes and looked into his worried grey ones, and all of a sudden I was just so happy he was real, and _alive_ , and I hadn’t lost him, too, and now my damned eyes did burn like I was going to cry.

Which was stupid, I was _happy_ , not sad, and to make sure Sirius didn’t get the wrong message, I leaned up and caught his lip, nibbling a request for a kiss. He made a noise that might have been a sob, somewhere that his voice was normal and his hands didn’t stink of ozone and regret, but it sounded like the croak of a raven to me.

I wiggled my hands free and undid his hair as I kissed him, soft and sweet and gentle, with all the skill I had. I promised him I was ok with brushes of my lip, licked assurances into the wet arch of his mouth, slipped forgiveness and joy across his tongue with every pass of my tongue. His hair felt strange under my fingers, slick and cool, almost like it was made of water, and it sang citrusy and full of joy as Sirius slumped in relief, letting some of his carefully controlled emotions pulse from him in gentle waves, like the fronds of a shy sea creature.

“There, now that’s not between them,” Severus said, and Remus _growled_. A sudden throb of burnt paper and iron and a scuffle next to us made me pull my head up, only to get a face full of Severus' hair as Remus grabbed him around the neck and rolled them both, ending up with Remus sitting astride him.

There was a giggle in the darkness, and Severus’ robe disappeared when his back hit the ground into a swirl of tiny black shapes, their wings blood-warm silk swirling around us for a blinding second. I pulled back in shock, but Severus’ just rolled his eyes, and Remus laughed like he knew it would happen, and pinned him with an arm across his neck, his knee pressed into delicate flesh suddenly accessible.

“Zil agrees, point to me,” he snarled with a vindictive kind of joy into Severus’ face. I looked down at Sirius in alarm, but he had gone still, and was looking out into the darkness around our little nest.

“I know we haven’t really met, all formal-like,” Sirius said, his voice raspy but friendly enough, “but I’m pretty sure it’s rude in any plane to lurk in the darkness and turn people’s clothing into moths.” 

Something shifted in the darkness, immense, just out of sight.

Zil’s drunken giggle floated from somewhere approximating the kitchen, glass bottles clinking like claws across tile. “I had hoped to have dinner without interrupting, since Severus is being so territorial.” 

“Well, he and Remi are having a bit of a chat at the moment, and every time one of us isn’t looking you stop existing, so why don’t you come back and sit over here, where I can see you, eh?” Sirius’ body was tense, but his face gave nothing away. I spared a glance over to Remus, who was glaring into Severus’ scowling face, both of their eyebrows twitching like they were having an argument. Neither of them were paying attention to the growing tension between Sirius and Zil, like two large creatures staring each other down.

I swallowed a few times, and took a breath, forcing myself to get some kind of words out of lips that just wanted to go back to snogging, not talking. I pushed up, shifting to sit on Sirius’ hips, and one of his gloved hands stroked my thigh absently, his eyes never leaving the spot in the darkness where he heard Zil’s voice.

I touched my fingers over Sirius’ heart, where the layers of tattoos bled together under the dusting of hair. “Hey. Zil saved me. Don’t-” and I ran out, but I flattened my hand on his chest until he looked at me, his eyes the last thing to leave that spot.

He looked at me for a moment, and I pushed a fraction of memory at him, of Zil with his arm in my chest, and Severus' hands on my head, and the blinding relief that I wasn’t a heartbeat from blowing up and killing everyone. 

< Zil _saved_ me. Please don’t fight. I trust him. >

Sirius frowned, his eyes shifting to the darkness before coming back. < You know he’s not human. >

I laughed at that, something desperate and wet in it, and threaded my hand into his gloved fingers, holding tight to the hand-that-wasn’t. “Are we?”

His eyes widened, his eyebrows climbing, but Zil’s brown shins and feet came into view, and we both startled. I hadn’t heard him move from the kitchen, and as he folded himself down next to Sirius, the bottles in his hands clinked. 

He held two cold bottles out to us, the necks caught between his fingers. “Peace offering? Cupcake is quite right, he was close to burning a hole through this pocket and attracting quite a bit of attention, to be honest.”

“Well, that would have been no good at all,” Sirius said, and took the bottles, popping the tops with his thumb and saluting Zil with them. “Thank you for the drink. And, for stopping the whole, burning a hole in the universe thing.” He sat up on one elbow and took a pull, coughing and sputtering a bit when the taste hit.

“Ginger beer,” Zil said, taking a swig of his own bottle. 

Sirius wheezed, his face red. “Lots… lots of ginger,” he managed, laughter bubbling around the edges of his words as he blew air over his tongue. “Spicy!”

I sighed in relief as the tension between them dissipated, and Sirius’ body beneath mine relaxed, even as the bodies next to ours started to shift and move, faint snarls leaking around Remus’ clenched teeth.

“Speaking of spicy,” Sirius said, and mimed at me to cover my ears, and then stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled shrilly. I winced even with my thumbs stuck in my ears, gripping my ginger beer awkwardly, the sound sharp as wire puncturing the air. Zil glitched so badly his bottle dropped through his hand. Even the _cabin_ reacted, the beams overhead shivering like startled things and a canopy of leaves growing from them like a ruffled bird, the temp dropping as faint mist fell from the brand new rainforest blooming above us.

Remus collapsed on his back, hands clapped over his ears, his eyes clamped shut as if he could block it out with his eyelids, and stuffed his head under a mound of pillows. Severus jerked away from the noise almost as violently, rolling into Remus’ shoulder. 

The silence that fell after the noise ended was echoey and weird, but I couldn’t tell if there was a supernatural reason or if it was just because that was damn bloody loud.

From across the yard, I heard two sharp whistles in return, and Sirius grinned and trilled something back. Zil had his head cocked, a feathery set of headphones covering his ears.

Severus smacked Sirius’ arm. Sirius laughed as he pulled his fingers out of his mouth, leaning up on his elbow to offer the bottle in mock remorse. He even tipped his chin, the shadow of hair highlighting his exaggerated wobbly lip and big sad eyes. Severus snatched the bottle irritably and pushed a few pillows under his back so he could sniff at the drink.

“You never used to be so distrustful of my peace offerings,” Zil said and Severus arched an eyebrow at him, but took a slug of the beer and hummed in appreciation. 

“A peace offering directly for me, I see. And I was always distrustful of your offerings, I just took them anyway.” He downed the rest of the bottle in a few pulls, glancing at Remus’ pillow wall from nearly-shut eyes.

I stuck a foot out and trailed it up Remus’ scarred leg, trying to be non threatening, picturing a long eared hare cautiously poking at a wolf’s paw, hoping I wouldn't have to jump to avoid any swipes. I guess the image escaped, because I heard Remus snort under his mound of pillows, and Sirius cooed something about coursing that I didn't quite understand but that made Severus laugh. 

Remus pulled himself out of his fort and rubbed his hands over his face, glaring with some heat at Sirius, and then seeing Zil, his face did several complicated things, ending up both pale and flushed. 

I rocked forward and handed him the ginger beer I was holding, grinding my aching cock into Sirius’ leather-clad hip. Unsurprisingly, even imminent dimensional magical dueling wasn't enough to quell my libido, at this point.

Some part of me that sounded an awful lot like Severus pointed out that danger had always made my cock hard.

Remus took the bottle, and carefully plucked the glasses off my face. I glanced at him, confused, but his other hand snatched my wrist and yanked me off Sirius, easily spilling me over his lap, arse up. I squeaked in surprise but didn’t fight to escape. The earpieces on my glasses clicked as he closed them, and I heard him take a drag of the beer, and hiss like Sirius had over the ginger, before the cold circle of the bottle rested on my back, along with Remus’ forearms. I was caught on his lap, face stuffed in pillows. I could barely see the edge of Severus' elbow. 

“Caught you, little hare,” he said into my ear, nuzzling the back of my neck. “You didn’t run.”

“Don’t run from, ah, predators, isn’t that the rule?” His teeth nibbled at my earlobe, and I got the prickly feeling all of a sudden that I was the focus of many eyes. I gulped, but I felt Severus’ hand across my foot, and heard Sirius make an appreciative noise.

Among these four, I did feel like prey, at the moment. I knew, on some level, that I was possibly as powerful, but the fact that any one of them could, really, take me down made me whine, somewhere deep in my chest, and I found myself arching into his teeth, my toes digging for purchase in the pillows. I melted into Remus’ touch, much happier that we had gone back to fucking, instead of devolving into endless talking again.

“No more fighting?” I begged, shifting my feet farther apart, putting my hands flat on the ground on the other side of Remus’ knee, feeling like a lion tamer, my body the bit of meat on the end of the stick. “Please?” I shut my eyes, trying to entice them back to play.

Remus sat up, a groan rattling its way out of his throat, echoed by Sirius a moment later. 

Zil made a noise like a child in a sweet shop, overwhelmed by sudden choices. “Oh, you’re just a ripe little plum, are you? Offering yourself up to sooth the posturing?”

I whined again, nodding against the floor.

The pillows shifted as people moved, and I could feel warmth, even though nobody but Remus was touching me. 

“Such a sweet little morsel,” Zil said from much closer than he had been. I could smell ginger beer and sweat, woodsmoke and citrus, forest floor and iron. Sirius’ leather-covered fingers trailed up my hip. Severus slid across from Remus, their knees touching, and then I was hauled across all four of their laps, my cock dropping into the space in the middle.

I moaned, wrapping my arms around the legs nearest me; Remus’ too-hot thigh, dusted with tawny hair, and Severus’, bony and hard, the knee closest to me pale as moonlight. Sirius’ blood-hot leather trousers under one leg, and the other over Zil, small and carefully blank.

Hands. Hands everywhere, skimming over my back but avoiding the spell triggers deftly, down my thighs, through my hair. I shivered, and Severus’ palm cupped my cheek. I dropped my head into his hand, the smell of his skin grounding. He leaned over me, his hair falling between us and the others. I remembered the calm under the Whomping Willow, while the rumbling tornadoes flung lightning. I leaned up, asking for a kiss, and he smiled, soft and proud, kissing me until my brain gave up trying to keep track of whose hands were where, and just floated, almost like I was in the warm pool back in the baths.

“Do remember that any of us will stop if you would like,” Severus said, and I didn’t want them to stop at all, so I nodded, and he snorted softly. “I don’t believe I will be trusting your self preservation instinct, quite yet. May I..” and he opened a wider channel between us, inviting me to share rather than forcing me to, which I could clearly feel was an option.

I grabbed the link, grateful for not having to be the one making sure I didn’t do anything monumentally stupid. For a little while, anyway. It wasn’t like when he was hiding, trapped in my head. It wasn’t even like the weird open feeling I had when Zil was stopping me from burning out, this was… both more and less intimate. I could feel him as if he held himself together, sharing my space rather than overwhelming me.

< There. I will be able to get surface thoughts and emotions even if you’ve gone cross eyed with lust, but it is nowhere as intrusive as before. > he sent, and he felt like firewhiskey and black feathers and _home_. I groaned without meaning to, my skin prickling as blood rushed to the surface. 

“Oh, I’m not sure what you just did, Sev, but do it again, would you?” Remus said from somewhere outside this little bubble, and the connection stayed even as he sat up again, his hair dragging over my cheek, leaving me somehow more naked than I had been before.

But his hand still cupped my face, and I slid my mouth down his fingers, until he slipped two of them into my mouth for me to suck. They tasted slightly wrong for a moment, and I realized I was used to there being traces of paper and hints of potion ingredients harmless enough to be touched bare-handed. All I could taste on him now was the tang of skin and sweat.

I felt his stomach tighten against my arm, but he otherwise remained composed.

Sirius’ hands made warm circles along the backs of my thighs. “So, are we working toward a purpose, or just playing? I haven’t really seen what you can do, pet, not first hand.”

“I didn’t have anything in mind other than rewarding both him and your wolf for their good behavior.” Severus said, and trailed his fingertips lightly up the feathers tattooed across my shoulders, a whisper of nails stroked possessively across my collar.

Remus moaned, shifting, adjusting himself under my ribs, and I gasped as his rising cock bumped my skin. I slid my hand back, into his lap, wrapping my hand around it, or as much as I could, anyway. He felt like a thermos of fresh tea, huge and hard and hot, and I stroked him, the skin soft over the iron beneath.

“He’s not quite ready for that, yet, perhaps you two could continue that task?” Severus said, and I could feel the hungry, almost shark-like focus Sirius and Zil suddenly had, each pulling the leg they had wider until I could feel the cheeks of my arse pull apart, still sticky and wet from Severus’ fingers. 

“AH, hn, wait, he doesn’t-... you don’t have to-” Remus’ cock pulsed in my hand, but his voice was thready with worry and restrained lust. I pushed up, twisting so he could see my face. Remus always was so cautious, so careful. I wondered if I could get him to lose control again, like I had in his bedroom.

Severus was here, he’d stop Remus before he did any real damage. 

Taunting the wolf. I was insane.

Words were already beyond my grasp, but I pulled my hand away from his cock slow enough that his eyes dropped to follow the motion, and I waited until my fingers were just close enough to my mouth that he could see it before I locked eyes with him and licked a wet stripe up my fingers before sucking them into my mouth, drooling onto my palm. He froze like a deer in a meadow, and I felt Zil and Sirius go still a moment later, eyes locked on my mouth. Even Severus had gone still.

Four all-powerful magical beings, and I held them all in the palm of my hand.

I felt my eyes crinkle, the only bit of the smirk that bubbled out of me to actually reach my face, and started to fuck the fingers in and out of my mouth, getting them wet. Sirius bit back some kind of obscenity, his fingers on my thigh clenching tight.

Sparks of beautiful, dull pain shot up my spine, and I moaned around my fingers, my eyes sliding shut, forgetting all about my attempt at convincing Remus that I really did want it. Severus' hand caught my hair, and clenched when I would have collapsed back onto my stomach.

“Oh, I do hope you will continue,” his voice purred into my ear, pulling just hard enough to make my scalp go hot and tight, and my hips jerked against the hands holding me. I peeled my eyes open, breathing hard through my nose, “Go on,” he said, moving my stilled arm with his other hand. “Fuck your mouth with those clever fingers, show the beast how much you want him. Don’t bother to pretend you don’t; your body betrays you.”

It was true, I did want him. The heat from my scalp had spread to my face, down my chest. I fucked my fingers into my mouth, deep, staring at Remus’ face, though the edges were softening as lust started taking over.

“Change of mood, gentlemen,” Zil said, and fireflies descended from the leaves above us, warm light dancing over our skin. A snap of fingers, and a fire bloomed in the fireplace, the cold of the moonlight dissipating, suddenly replaced with a feeling like being outside under the trees, a crackling fire keeping us warm, the crickets singing in the grass.

Severus murmured something to Sirius, who snorted and summoned his jacket, abandoned outside the nest. I heard it clink as it slapped into his hand, and the zip of pockets. 

“Well, then, we need music, I think,” Severus said and I felt a tiny ripple of magic. The cabin slowly filled with a low, heavy beat, just enough to tickle my memory. I’d heard this before, it reminded me of something… And then a cork popped from a bottle, and oil slid down my back, hot and wet, the smell of sandalwood and musk and I pulled my hand out of my mouth to groan, my cock throbbing, feeling my hole clench as the smell triggered a hundred memories, each layered with sensation.

The air went thick, like water, the scent of the oil spooling out into the air like a mane from the stripe poured down my back. I could actually see it, fat, cartoonish lines of warm brown sandalwood and pulsing, dark red musk, sparking granules of dried tears outlining blobs drifting in the air. I could feel whatever was in the oil moving through me, making everything _feel_ better, _taste_ better, the light going a little soft.

Sirius looked… weird, his outline jumping and sliding, his hands ringed in blue spirals that left little mini copies of themselves behind, his eyes blazing the same crackling electric blue as his hands under the gloves. 

Remus was swirling with light and dark areas, like he was running through trees, the shadows full of doodles of gnashing teeth and cartoon yellow eyes.

I turned my head for nine thousand years, or so it seemed, so I could look at Severus, to see what he looked like with this weird graffiti vision I had developed all of a sudden. 

I got a look at Zil on the way by, and he looked exactly the same, no chalk-bright outlines or doodles. I was disappointed, but he flicked his tongue at me, cherry red and forked and doodly, before going back to a plain little man again.

As if he was any of those things.

Severus looked mostly the same, at first, too, but when he turned his head to talk to Sirius, he glitched, dark shapes sketching a beak, a spray of black feathers. I twitched, sparks of recognition shooting through me hard enough that Severus turned back and cocked his head. 

I moaned, letting go of Remus to grab at Severus’ shoulders, kissing him desperately, pushing a dizzying memory of the huge black bird that had shown them the way out. He fluffed with alarm, but palmed the back of my head and kissed me soundly, the smoke and firewhisky feel of him overlaid with the sensation of feathers tracing over my neck.

Nimble fingers slid across the small of my back, avoiding the tattoo but scooping up oil. I could tell it was Zil, if only because he didn’t feel like anything but skin, where the others blazed with energy, each distinct enough that I could tell it was Sirius hooking my knee higher, but Remus who leaned forward and groped my arse, holding me open.

Heat blazed, embarrassment and lust and pride and the obscenity of being seen like this, known like this, making me tremble under their hands. Severus broke the kiss finally, both of us panting, and held my chin until my eyes flickered open and met his. He arched a questioning eyebrow, and tipped his head toward Zil, and I nodded. 

He pressed his lips to the top of my head. I would have called it a kiss, but that was too tender a word for the emotions pulsing between us. “Insatiable,” he murmured, his fingers holding my head fondly.

I felt light, and strangely unburned by shame or fear. It was... liberating, in a way that just being ‘free’ had not.

< You’re the one who promised me cock, > I sent him, and flashed a memory at him, of his voice in my ear telling me Remus was almost as big around as his forearm. < I’m just an innocent, here, > I said, and rested my head on his thigh, nuzzling to get comfortable.

Severus barked a laugh and lightly cuffed the back of my head. “Oh, quite,” he said. “Such purity, you don’t even have any marks!” He turned his hand and raked his nails across my back, the burn sudden and shocking, and I yelped, loud and wet against his skin, jerking, a spray of white sparks coming off of me like I was covered in water droplets. 

“Oh, concha,” Zil said, chuckling, and the little sparks that had fallen near my hands suddenly winked out, one by one. I felt a touch to the back of my thigh, hot, and moaned again as Zil bit the swell of my ass, hard enough that it took my breath for a moment, and I was still awash in a bright splash of pain when his fingers slid down the crack of my ass, lightly skirting my hole and teasing my balls. His thumb brushed behind them, teasing, before pressing hard, and I grunted as the pain of the bite blended with a sharp spike of pleasure as he dug his thumb in.

I shook; the pleasure even sharper for the pain before it, like salt on the rim of the drinks we had learned to make. Zil made another pleased little noise, and his thumb slipped up to tease at the rim of my hole, still somewhat relaxed from earlier. He paused, maddeningly close, and I rolled my hips backward, trying to get him to hurry up.

“Ach, impatient!” Zil said, and his other hand came down hard on the back of my thigh, leaving what felt like a stamp of fire, and I jerked before I caught myself. 

Rule 1, don’t move, I thought fuzzily to myself, and settled, relaxed but alert, in case someone else mentioned a rule. This was actually a game I enjoyed; concentrating on figuring out what I was supposed to do, even without direct instructions. Before, it had given another layer of distance to just how absurd and stressful it all was, but now, it just gave that niggling part of my brain something to concentrate on. It made it easier to just… feel.

More hands coated themselves in the oil, and I recognized them by touch, Severus’ bony fingers stroking across my neck, Remus a little rough as he leaned forward, one hand working his cock, his other gripping my hip, pulling me open a little more. Sirius’ hand pressed down across the tattoo on my lower back, and I expected the set spells to go off, but nothing happened.

Well, nothing magic related.

That section of my skin had become hypersensitive, and I felt the tension melt out of my body _even though_ the spell didn’t do anything. 

It was the smell of the oil, the thrum of the music. Warm hands on me, holding me still. I could stop it all with a word, with a _thought_. Sirius pinched my inner thigh, and the pain was just another memory, pulling up a torrent of other times, other pinches, and Remus licked his fingers where they held me down, the sudden blazing touches of his tongue setting off the spells where Sirius had not, and I shuddered, unable to do more than feel my body get ready to be taken.

I waited for shame. There was no shame, not even weird looping shame for being shameless.

My cock throbbed, dripping, as I panted in their lap, desire making every inch of my skin feel as sensitive as my throat. Severus’ fingers dotted oil across my sternum, over my collar bones, up the sides of my neck to dab it behind my ears, the last of it wiped across my face, the smell a hundred times stronger.

Zil’s thumb slipped into my hole, and there was no resistance left in me. A hand slid around my cock, fingers teasing at the silvery band of magic wrapped around me before stroking me with purpose. Two, and then three fingers replaced the thumb, and I couldn’t breathe for a blinding second as the two hands worked me, fingers pressing in just a little bit more. 

Everything went hazy. I could hear them talking to each other, or maybe to me, but I couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but try not to move, fuzzily remembering that I wasn’t supposed to move. The fingers inside me twisted, pressed, withdrew, and I panted, holding myself from trying to get them back with a long shiver, my thighs tensing. I bit my lip as my legs were pushed closed, and someone said, “1, 2, and 3” they suddenly flipped me over, a dizzying smear of light and color making my head spin before my oiled back hit their legs. Zil’s hand slid between my thighs and pulled my cock and balls down, and Sirius hauled my legs up, crossing my feet at the ankle so he could hold me there with one hand, curled up so much my knees nearly touched my nose.

Sirius tapped something against my thigh, paused, and tapped again when he got no response. My head was in Severus' lap, now, cradled over his folded legs, a deep soft pillow under my shoulders taking my weight, and I looked to him for instruction. He had been watching Remus stroking his monster cock, and glanced at me, and then at Sirius.

“Oh for… Culus, he doesn’t know the argot, I told you I wasn’t going to take the risk.” Severus sounded annoyed, as if this was an old argument, and Sirius glared at him as he pulled my arms up and wrapped them around my legs, so he could let go.

“Bloody inconvenient, just like I said it would be,” Sirius grumbled, and flashed a toothy grin at me before biting a row of marks down my thigh, each lighting up like a firework.

I’d match Remus, tomorrow.

Fear shot through me when his teeth closed on the skin of my balls, and he paused just long enough that I knew he was teasing me before he nibbled gently and laved the spot with his tongue. I felt him moan, lapping the sweat from my body, pausing to bury his nose against my skin and inhaling. 

No, not inhaling. He was _sniffing_ me, _tasting_ me, learning the way I felt against his lips as he swirled his tongue down the length of my cock. He was drooling, spit running down my cock as he slobbered over the head of it, and I shook, unable to arch into or away from the sensation. 

I bit my lip to stop myself from whining, but the noise thrummed in my throat, and I pulled my knees closer, hiding my face as Zil’s clever fingers started to thrust harder, jolting me forward. Every few thrusts he twisted his hand in a way that felt boneless, and the stretch got a little tighter. 

“Oh, but I can’t see if you do that,” Severus murmured and threaded his fingers into my hair, cupping the back of my head for a minute, feeling the thud of Zil’s fingers into me shoot up my spine and push me hard against him. Remus sucked my nipple into his mouth, his wrist still banging into my ribs as he stroked his cock, little bumps of pain adding to the maelstrom. 

Severus clenched his fist in my hair and _pulled_ , and I cried out, lust pouring off of me in thick gold ribbons shot with white sparks as they worked me between their hands. My brain was _melting_. Sensations ran together, blurring from pleasure to pain and back until _everything_ felt good, every inch of my skin as sensitive as my cock. They unwound me, my arms pulled out to the side, my legs spread wide. Sirius’ fingers had joined Zil’s in stretching me open, his other hand pinching a spiral of bruises on my inner thigh.

Remus shifted and engulfed my cock in his furnace-mouth with a needy groan, his spit running down to where they were working me open, the wet sounds echoed by the gasps they were pulling from my throat. 

Time became my heartbeat. I shivered as I sagged into them, floating, whining without really meaning to. The thick air felt like tickling fingers, or maybe they were Sirius’ shadow tentacles, I couldn't tell. Severus claimed my mouth again, scratching his fingers across my chest, a blazing line that drew my attention lower. 

With a final stroke, all of a sudden everyone took their hands off me, and I keened, writhing, the lack of touch more painful than the welts, and I arched up, my hands clumsily scrambling toward my cock. 

Sirius laughed, dark and low and rough, “Naughty pup, as if that’s your toy. Shhh, don’t worry, we’ll give you what you want,” and he caught my hands and pulled me upright. Everything was oversaturated, neon scribbles and smears of flavored light and white, skittering sparks pouring out of me to swirl and flock in dizzying patterns, and I shut my eyes, trusting Severus to catch me if I fell.

My legs only held me for a moment before they buckled. His arm wrapped around my waist, lifting me off my feet, his other arm hooked under one knee. I hung in his arms like meat, dripping with sweat and lube and spit and feeling like a rabbit that had not run quite fast enough and was about to find out what happened when the wolf finally got him.

I wrapped my arms around Severus’ neck, and leaned my slippery back against his chest. I felt so open I half expected to melt into him, to feel my spine catch on the arch of his ribs. He nuzzled the side of my head, pressing kisses down my neck as he took a few steps and then turned, dropping my leg but holding me upright against his body. I felt as wobbly as a newborn fawn.

The music throbbed under my skin, and I swayed against him, half rubbing against the hard cock in the small of my back, and half just moving with the music because even the way my muscles slid over my bones as I twisted felt good. 

I heard Remus beg, pleading with words I couldn’t make out, as drunk as I was on lust and magic and the combined, heady concoction of us all together like this, with no fear and no anger and no shame curdling the joy. 

“Can you open your eyes for me?” Severus murmured in my ear, and I pulsed drunken irritation at such a lofty request, which he laughed into my hair about, but I managed it eventually, my head leaning back against his chest. 

Remus was laid out before me like a feast, arms bound to his sides, his legs wrapped in thick black tentacles and spread wide enough that his thighs trembled. He oozed moonlight. Sirius lounged next to him, holding his enormous cock, dribbling oil onto the head from a foot above it, each drop making Remus jerk and gasp out another plea.

Zil was sprawled on Remus’ other side, twirling the cold moonlight around his fingers and then sucking them clean, his eyes shut in hedonistic bliss.

“Your mount awaits,” Sirius said grandly, and Zil giggled, lapping more stickly moonlight from his fingers, his cartoon-doodle snake tongue swirling around them until they were clean, small pink hearts forming above his head and floating off into the swirling, shifting rainbow of magic. 

Severus cupped my jaw, keeping my eyes on Remus’ straining cock, throbbing with his heartbeat, glistening with lube and weeping thick, glowing drops of his desire. “There he is, so ready he’s nearly insensate. He requested the bonds, by the way. I was going to let him _savage you._ ” 

My mouth watered, raw need leaking from my skin in thick, viscous drops of light, and Zil leaned over and caught one on his tongue.

“Sweet boy,” he said, and I flicked my hand at him, intending to splatter him with whatever the glowing stuff was, since he liked it so much, but I was clumsy, intoxicated on them and anticipation and the citrus-woodsmoke-iron-sandalwood taste of the air, and instead of a few drops, a bucket full of the stuff gushed from my throw, hitting his shocked face and splashing down his body, covering him in it like neon frosting.

He licked it off his skin as he fell backwards, his echoing, drunken laugher rolling over us. I could suddenly _feel_ Zil, where I hadn’t before, a sort of hazy, blurry awareness of him. He wasn’t just the little man licking the last of the frosting from his chest with comically large swipes from his cartoon forked tongue, but I could faintly feel the immensity of him, the almost alien way he wound around us and over us and _through us_ , as if the cabin wasn’t even here.

Zil was rumbling with a noise that sounded suspiciously cat-like for a reptile, curled around the closest pillow and sipping at the bottle he had somehow produced.

Severus snorted, watching his… teacher? Mentor? I wasn’t sure how their relationship worked at all, to be honest. But the smug pride rolling off of him as he ran possessive hands down my ribs made me even harder, and I groaned, sagging against him, stretching to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

“Well, now you’ve done it,” Severus said, tipping his head back to give me room as I lapped at his skin, salty and comfortingly familiar, “He’ll be after you like a hound, now.”

Sirius growled, playfully, I was nearly sure, but it was hard to tell what was coming from whom, at the moment, everything swirling with the combined feel of the four of us. “Oi, not so fast, pack priority?” he said, the light tone held an edge of warning.

“Culus is protective of all of us, but you two in particular,” Severus murmured into my ear, and Sirius looked up at him, his mouth twisted in a sad little smile that he buried under an exaggerated wink and his hand waving over Remus as if presenting a feast. 

< The Bastard is included in that group, which he doesn’t believe, the contrary git, but don’t let on that I told, will ya? > Sirius sent to me, and I nodded at him; it would have surprised me, before seeing them together. 

My toes touched the ground as Severus leaned forward, and I unlaced my arms slowly, trailing them down the black hair as I wobbily stood on my own two feet.

I glanced back at Severus, and he offered a hand, but Remus was watching me, his eyes wild, the light and dark feeling of his energy strobing with lust and concern, hunger and doubt, desire and desire and _desire_ and he was _pulsing_ with it, oozing out of him, sticky rivulets of moonlight seeping from his skin and running toward the nearest of Sirius’ black shadows, the two energies rubbing together in a way that felt _completely_ pornographic. I stepped over to him without a hand on me, stopping between his spread legs and nudging at his swollen balls with my toes.

< Ok? > I sent him as his eyes closed, as if the sight of me stepping over his straining erection and kneeling above him was too much to watch. I couldn’t make any words from the flood I got back, frantic hunger and desperation for consent. His body strained towards mine even before I settled over him, my thighs brushing along his arms where they were bound to his sides. I could feel Remus’ magic climb onto my skin, the moonlight slick and cold and _moving_ , pulling me backward like a tide. I pressed my palms to his chest, on either side of the large scar, feeling his heartbeat. He opened his eyes as I leaned in, his eyebrows creased with worry even with the sweat sticking his hair to his face, and I grinned down at him, and some of the storm left his eyes, but he still looked so unsure.

Sirius threw himself onto the pillow next to Remus, and flicked a look at him before looking back up at me. He sent a flash of a drooling wolf chained just out of reach of a juicy steak, whining. The fact that the chains weren’t attached to anything didn’t seem to make it any easier for the wolf to take that first bite.

I knew something about not being able to reach for what you wanted, but I wasn’t sure exactly how much more explicit I could be, short of, well…

“Proper young men ask for what they want,” Severus’s voice rolled over me, his voice pitched lower as he settled across from Sirius. The music changed to a song I remembered from dozens of evenings practicing the finer points of fucking, and I slid into the role as easy as I breathed.

“May I?” I asked down at Remus, grinding my cock into his stomach. 

“Manners,” chided Sirius, and I huffed a laugh and continued the slow grind, the pressure against my neglected cock glorious, adding a twist as the beat of the music twined into what we were doing. 

“May I, please?” I bit my lip, sliding my fingers over his nipples, as if by accident. “Please?” He was shaking, I could feel it under my palms, along my thighs, see it in the flickering moonlight seeping through his clenched teeth.

I thought for a moment, hips never stopping, wondering how far to push him, and then decided that Remus owed me a little for not just fucking me like I had asked him to the other night… and really, I owed him a little for the same thing. I leaned forward on one hand and kissed my way up his jaw, my fingers teasingly light on his hard nipple. 

“Please,” I whispered, licking at his earlobe with tiny swipes of my tongue, the shaking getting worse. “Please, Remus, you promised.” He jerked under my hands, and I grinned into the darkness behind his ear, adding a bit of pout to my begging. “You _promised_ and I was good for you, I _waited_ and now you’ve made Sirius wrap you all up and I can’t even tell if you want me back.” 

A noise like a sob ripped out of him, and I moved up, bracketing his cheeks between my hands. I waited until his tawny eyes opened, and locked eyes with him, just as Sirius let the hot weight of his cock fall against my back. I bit my lip at exactly how large it was, and I didn’t have to fake the lust on my face. 

Sirius snapped his fingers, the shadows holding his arms dissipating with a fizzing pop. 

“ _Fuck_ me, _please_ fuck me,” I begged, and I couldn’t quite remember the phrase that Severus had used, but I pushed the memory of being splayed out beneath him, wide open under his tongue, my arse his for the taking.

Remus surged against me, yanking my mouth to his with a feral growl, his fingers rough in my hair, his kiss bruisingly hard, the iron and forest feel of him overlaid by the taste of my blood in my mouth as the inside of my lip split against my teeth. He snarled and flipped us over so quickly that the air was punched out of my chest, and I scrambled to get to my feet when hands yanked my hips up, a huge hot weight falling against my back as he leaned over me. I pushed up on one hand and he knocked it out from under me, leaning on my shoulders hard with his weight, his hips twitching against my ass even as other hands pulled my knees wide. 

My hand found Remus’, clenched hard into the cushions. I pushed my hips up, whining, rocking into the slippery press of his cock. “Please,” I whined “You won’t hurt me, I want it, you promised, you _promised-”_

And for one second he felt like he was going to run, like he _couldn’t_ , but Sirius’ fingers suddenly slid between us, and Severus shifted me slightly, and I couldn’t help the squeak as the rounded tip of his cock slid against my hole, and I thrust back, but Severus’ hands stopped me from taking the decision away from Remus.

Sirius wound around us, his voice as smooth as glass, the music gone strange, wobbling with my heartbeat. He shifted again, and his gloved hand stroked over my head, shoved down into the pillows, and I sucked his thumb into my mouth, tasting the leather and wondering how I could feel the edge of his nail, the hard bump of the knuckle, when he had neither. 

He shivered, and his voice went soft, cajoling. “Come on, Remi, you know I’m right here. And plus, the Bastard is here, too, as well as your old teacher, there is no chance any of us would let you harm a hair on his head. Oh I know, doesn’t he feel good, he wants you so bad, pet, he’s all whining and right there, and you’ve been such a good boy for me, and been so good and strong and….”

Severus sighed. “This was easier when I just made him punch me,” he commented, and Zil laughed from somewhere to my side. “Remus, that boy you’re being so careful with between your claws has been panting for your cock since long before he even knew you were carrying around that beast, and I mean that in every way. He’s asked you, begged you, would impale himself on you right now if I wasn’t stopping him. With a _thought_ he could run fifty thousand volts through you on a level so deep you’d be fluffy on your next three moons, so will you stop your damn worrying and _take him already_?”

I _felt_ Remus give in, felt him shake all over like a wet dog, and his whole demeanor changed, his hands became sure and hard on my hips, hauling me to a better angle, his fingertips digging into my arse as he finally, _finally_ pushed into me, his shoulder holding me down even as he pulled me back. If the music was still on, I couldn’t hear it. 

“Oh god,” I whimpered around Sirius’ thumb, forgotten in my mouth, and a tiny spark of fear lit that he just wouldn’t _fit_ shot through me.

Remus snarled and thrust, harder than before, and Severus let go of my hips. Wailing, I shoved back as hard as I could and we both yelled as his cock slid into me, feeling like he was going to split me in two. He was made of fire. Everything went white for a second that felt like falling, moonlight and shadows and the sound of black wings, and then he pulled back, the white becoming empty coldness. I shook, trying to get him back, angry that he was leaving, a snarl in the whine I pressed into Sirius’ glove. But he was gone for just a moment, returning slick and wet and this time when he pushed back in, working himself deeper with short thrusts.

Every time I thought he would bottom out, Sirius would pet his hand over my hair and murmur, “Just a little bit more, pup, just a bit more” and then Remus would thrust harder, and slide deeper, and I shook, feeling gush of energy off of me with every thrust. My cock ached, but the bottoms of my feet felt just as sensitive, my perceptions twisting as I writhed. I would have come, felt like I had, my cock wet with oil and dripping every time it slapped against my belly, and for a moment I wondered if Remus could feel it.

Zil said something soft and reverent in a language that had too many angles in it, and I could feel them, flitting like butterflies made of glass, and I wanted to touch them, and as Remus slid halfway back out of me and thrust hard on the way back in, I thought I could almost understand it, but I couldn’t get the rhythm I wanted.

“Up,” I said, muffled, my mouth stuffed with Sirius’ thumb and a pillow and the hot, huffing weight of Remus. I reached for Severus, his burnt paper and firewhiskey there before I could fully form words, and I pushed an image of sucking his cock while bouncing on Remus’ lap, and from the speed that the three of them made that happen, I knew I didn’t send it just to Severus.

But then I didn’t care, because the air was cool and sweet and full of colors that I could almost remember and my arm left glittering echos as I reached for Severus, standing so close. He cupped my jaw, kissing me sweetly as I sank back down on Remus, and slid his hand down around my throat as I moaned.

“There, is that what you wanted? Yes, hmmm, ah, wait, you can have that in a moment. I should mention-” but I didn’t care, I wanted him in my mouth, didn’t want _words_ and _thinking,_ and I gathered up the glowing, neon sparks coming out of me and looped them around him, pulling his cock to my lips even as he yelped in surprise.

I looked up at him, taking his cock down my throat with practiced ease, swallowing and pulling back to suck on the head as I arched my back and worked myself down on the last few inches of Remus' cock, feeling a ridiculous sense of triumph when he bottomed out, and I pulled off of Severus’ cock with a pop to pant, breathless.

His hand brushed over my chest. “I wonder if you’re having trouble catching your breath because you’re really stuffed that full?” he said, his casual tone undercut by that amazed reverence again, and I leaned forward, taking his cock again as I pulled off of Remus’ enough to let me _breathe_ again, apparently, and the thought that he was really that big, that huge, that my body was essentially rearranging myself around him was the last thing I thought clearly.

I fell into a rhythm, rocking between them, filling my throat with Severus, and pulling in air as I sank onto Remus, never quite getting a full breath.

Time slid apart into particles that only made sense when the waves lined up. I could taste the leather of Sirius’ cock, buried down Remus’ throat, even with the heady taste of Severus on mine. My cock was running with light, pulsing out of me every time I rocked the bulge of him just right.

Severus was moving faster, urging me to thrust back harder, and I felt Remus’ energy thrum like a struck wire a moment before Severus’ hands were pushing hard on my shoulders, his cock buried deep in my throat.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice rough and warm, like the bottom of a fresh loaf of bread. I gagged but opened watering eyes as he pressed his foot down on my hip and pulled me closer.

Remus was thrashing, pulsing, his balls hot and huge under mine, and I twitched as his monstrous cock seemed to swell, stretching me even farther.

“I tried to warn you,” Severus said, flicking his fingers to cancel the ring around my aching balls, “but you always get what you want, don’t you?” He wrapped his hand around the back of my head, shoving me back down on Remus’ growing cock until Remus pushed Sirius off of him to howl, his knot going hard, and I saw stars, filling up with moonlight, with neon sparks, with woodsmoke and citrus and iron and ozone, and Severus came down my throat, and I burned in the dark like a falling star.


End file.
